


About Horizon . . .

by LJANdersen



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anderson as a mentor, Angst, Becoming a Spectre, Canon Compliant, Cover Art, Date with the doctor, F/M, Horizon (Mass Effect), Investigating Cerberus, Mass Effect 2, Post-Horizon (Mass Effect), Romance, Shenko - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 01:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20480927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJANdersen/pseuds/LJANdersen
Summary: We all know Shepard’s side, but what about Kaidan’s?  Why was Horizon a burning match and kerosene instead of a happy reunion?  How could he not trust her after she turned herself into the Alliance?  She had turned against Cerberus and the Illusive Man.Two years is a long time.  This is Kaidan’s side of the story – why he made those choices and how they ended up so far apart.





	1. Chapter 1

** **

**Chapter 1**

“Miss Lawson.” Shepard swivelled to face the cabin door. “Didn’t hear you knock.”

“Because I didn’t.”

“That would explain it.” Shepard slouched in her chair. Whiskey colored the glass tumbler clutched to her chest. “What do you want?”

“It’s been a rough day.” Miranda strolled further into the room.

Shepard rotated back to the desk. She watched Miranda’s reflection in the glass cabinet of model ships. Shepard had a few empty spaces in the cabinet, but the collection was coming along.

“Did you hear me?” Miranda put a palm on the desk and leaned into Shepard’s sight.

“That was a question? Sounded like a statement.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and waved at her. “Drinking, morose, wilted posture ...”

“Still haven’t heard the question,” Shepard said not bothering to meet her eyes.

She was still missing the U-57 Kodiak. She couldn’t find it again. Damn thing had gone down with the SR-1. Limited edition. Hard to replace.

“Kaidan Alenko,” Miranda said.

Shepard’s fingers tightened on the glass. When he appeared on Horizon, she could see the building turmoil. She thought a casual tone, light and not dwelling on the hurt, would mollify the rising emotion. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Just a bucket of water on an oil fire. Then she tried to refocus him on their mutual goal, the work, the reapers. Their duty as soldiers had always come first. It seemed the right direction to settle him. Wrong again. 

“I’m disappointed your interaction went so poorly,” Miranda said.

“You are, huh?” Shepard lurched straight and slammed her tumbler on the desk. She turned her chair to Miranda. “What the hell do you care, Miranda?”

“Unfortunate is all. He could have been a valuable addition to the team. Shame you failed to recruit him.”

“I’m not Cerberus’s Uncle Sam.” Shepard shot to her feet. “Go back to your lair, Miranda. And, dammit, learn to knock. Perfect genes don’t teach manners, I see.”

“Ah. Since you’re the soul of good manners yourself.”

“Your fault. You rebuilt me. Must have picked the wrong brain in a jar. Classic error.”

“So dramatic.” Miranda tapped her fingernails on her hips.

“Screw you, Miranda.” Shepard shoved past her and trotted down the steps. “I’m going to bed.”

“He was important to recruit for your own welfare as much as ours,” Miranda said. “He could have provided you some grounding, I think.”

Shepard spun around. “You’re so concerned with my mental health, then get the hell out of my cabin. You think your little couch session here is helping anything?”

Miranda wandered to Shepard’s desk. She came back with a framed picture. “Turned this to the wall? Why?”

“I didn’t put that here. You did, Miranda. Now answer some of my questions. Why? Why put a picture of Kaidan Alenko in my room?”

“You weren’t sleeping with him?”

Shepard stormed up the stairs. She tore the frame out of Miranda’s hand. “You want me to recruit him? Make him your source on the Alliance? I don’t think so.”

“You asked him aboard, not me.”

“Because …” Shepard’s jaw clenched. She looked down at the picture. “I forgot myself for a moment. He was walking away, and my mind was spinning. I’m glad he said no.”

“Said more than that, didn’t he?” Miranda folded her arms. Her eyes had a clinical quality, scrutinizing but detached.

“Take your picture and whatever file you have on him -- whatever file you think you have on _ us _ \-- and shove it up your ass. It’ll give the stick some company.” Shepard slapped the picture against Miranda’s crossed arms. “You won’t threaten and control me with him.” Shepard let go. The picture crashed to the floor at Miranda’s feet. Shepard turned away. “Let yourself out.”

“He’s investigating Cerberus,” Miranda said. “He’s digging into things he doesn’t understand. He’s making himself a target.”

“Ah.” Shepard walked to her dresser. “Now the part where you say – circumspectly and with great tact – that you’ll kill him. I don’t do what you want, something unfortunate may befall him.”

“If you’d gotten him to see our side –”

“Oh, right -- he would be safe,” Shepard said expansively. She pulled her shirt off over her head. She slung it across the room. “I suppose had it worked, you wouldn’t need to worry about Commander Alenko investigating Cerberus anymore in the future. You would even be preventing his immediate findings being reported back. And, you could glean Alliance intel from him. Use your little mind games, make him think he’s helping the Alliance, me, or humanity by hinting at inside information. Info you could use against the Alliance. In the best case scenario, he could even be your double agent.” 

Miranda’s lips thinned. She opened her mouth to speak, but Shepard cut her off.

“Also, he’d be right here, too, right? Just drifting around, ready for that unfortunate ‘accident’ if I bucked against the leash. Worried my other friends won’t be enough incentive? You want the object of my beloved Cerberus-commissioned picture here to help tie me closer to the cause. And, yes, Miranda, that’s why you put his picture here, in my office, unasked. To gear me up for his recruitment and remind me of the headsman's axe. You probably sprained yourself trying to find something I might care about enough to use to control me. No family. No real connections, except for my old crew.” Shepard tugged a tank top down, popping her head through the collar. She eyed Miranda. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Some right, some wrong, like always.” Miranda booted the broken picture frame. “The Illusive Man wanted you to be yourself. Part of that is finding meaning again.”

“I’ve got plenty of meaning.” Shepard stomped her pants off and leapt into bed. “I survived Mindoir. I survived Akuze. I’ll survive this. I didn’t need anyone then, I don’t need anyone now. I have myself. That’s all that matters.”

Miranda stepped over the broken glass and stopped at the top of the stairs. She studied Shepard letting the silence growing. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Shepard flapped the comforter over her legs and fell back on her pillow. 

“I know you want me off Alenko’s trail. You don’t want me using him to control you. Don’t want him hurt. But this? You really do believe that.”

“Leave him alone.” Shepard settled into the mattress and relaxed her muscles. “Leave Garrus alone. Leave all of them alone. You can use them to control me, go ahead, but don’t think I’m not a survivor. I have all I need. If I save them, it’s because I care, not because I need.”

Miranda pursed her lips, eyes drifting over the room, and nodded slowly. Her eyes focused back on Shepard. “You know why we put his picture here? Why we really put it here?”

“I’m going to sleep.” Shepard clicked off the lamp by her bed for emphasis.

“We put Kaidan Alenko’s picture here, because we had this.” Miranda brought up her Omni Tool’s screen and strolled down the steps. She scrolled with finger and finally paused and nodded. She held her forearm out to share the screen. “Familiar? They’re from your Omni-Tool. What was left of it.”

Miranda slid photos across the screen. Shepard’s snapshots from the SR-1. It was Kaidan. The photos were innocuous. Mundane. Most were group shots with Ashley or Wrex, Garrus or Tali. Everyday activities. Still worth documenting for how important the time became to her, but nothing interesting to someone else. Miranda slid one after another across the screen -- the comm room, the mess, cleaning guns, Alliance functions.

“No?” Miranda cocked her head. “Nothing there? Just old memories?”

“Chills. You read my mind.”

“Right.” 

Miranda stopped on a photo: Kaidan and Garrus by the Mako. Miranda zoomed in on the picture. Kaidan was laughing at Garrus. Garrus gaping at the Mako’s dented-in side panel from that botched Mako drop. A little operator error may have been involved, but the damned thing was impossible to drive. Still, Garrus’s flared mandibles and unhinged jaw? Priceless. It was Kaidan’s face, though, that Miranda zoomed in on. Kaidan looked sideways at the camera, face bright and flushed, laughing. It was the look in his eye though. Shepard’s pulse jumped. 

Miranda flipped to the next photo: a damned Alliance photo op. Nothing could be more stilted. The whole team was there with Alliance admiralty, which was the only reason she had a copy. The Battle of the Citadel wasn’t forty-eight hours in the history texts yet. Kaidan wasn’t even near Shepard in the photo, but Miranda zoomed in on him anyway. Shepard squinted. Kaidan was looking down the row of Alliance uniforms, past Tali and Wrex, looking at her. A gentle smile this time, but face no less exhilarant and vibrant. And his eyes, the same spark, aglow like watching a sunrise. Only, he was looking at _ her _. Another photo and the next, over and over again, photo after photo -- that look. Shepard’s heart thumped in her throat. She had noticed his eyes in these photos before, but the way Miranda zoomed in on them now, it confirmed, it wasn’t just her imagination. Shepard wasn’t only seeing what she wanted to see. It was real. A stranger was seeing it.

“No? Still meaningless?” Miranda watched Shepard with narrowing eyes. 

Shepard returned a dull-eyed stare then rolled over. She tucked her hands under the pillow and closed her eyes. 

“All right,” Miranda said. “Something else then. Let’s see. Here. Your intra-ship messages:

_ Shepard (01:30): What do you think you’re doing? _

_ Alenko (01:30): Commander, what are you doing up? _

_ Shepard (01:31): You want throttled or shot? _

_ Alenko (01:31): Definitely throttled. _

_ Shepard (01:32): Middle of the night. Other side of my wall. Alarm that loud. You have as long as it takes me to get dressed to come up with a good story, Alenko. _

_ Alenko (01:34): Inertia feedback coupler clocked back ten and went into matrix double time flash freezing the thermal exhaust system. _

_ Shepard (01:34): Whatever. Liar. _

_ Alenko (01:35): Taking you a long time to get dressed. What are you putting on? _

_ Shepard (01:35): Not nothing. _

_ Shepard (01:37): No response, huh? _

_ Alenko (01:37): Couldn’t find a sad enough emoticon. You know, I know these tailors. Worked for an emperor, made him new clothes … _

_ Shepard (01:38): I’m on my way out. Better be good, or I’m going full throttle on you. _

_ Alenko (01:38): It’s an air handler issue. Space debris damaged the recycler on the forward hull. Rerouting it. Almost done. Really am sorry about the alarm. _

_ Shepard (01:39): Still coming out. _

_ Shepard (01:39): And, Kaidan, I’m glad you’re around. _

_ Alenko (01:40): Emoticons fail me again. I’m glad you’re here, too, Shepard. Never has a throttling been more anticipated. _

_ Shepard (01:40): One day … _

_ Alenko (01:41): Today’s good enough for me. I just like being by your side. _

Shepard stared at the wall. Miranda moved into her view. “There are more.”

Shepard swallowed the lump burning in her throat. “Battlefield flirting taken too far. Means nothing.”

“You weren’t close? I guess, there were messages with everyone aboard,” Miranda said. “Here’s one with Garrus:

_ Shepard (1423): Repairs coming along? _

_ Vakarian (1424): Not totaled, but she’ll never drive straight again. _

_ Shepard (1424): Did she ever? _

_ Vakarian (1425): You behind the wheel? No comment. _

_ Shepard (1425): Alenko wants to call her the Sidewinder. _

_ Shepard (1426): Correction. By her, he means me. _

_ Shepard (1426): How’d you like another pair of hands, Vakarian? Maybe wash the exterior. Twice. _

_ Vakarian (1427): Alenko’s hands? _

_ Shepard (1427): Correction. By hands, I mean Alenko’s hands. _

_ Shepard (1427): Wait. Damn. You already guessed that. _

_ Shepard (1428): Either way, incoming. Make sure he gets the undercarriage. You have permission to point out spots he’s missing. The more imaginary, the better. _

_ Vakarian (1429): Alenko just—” _

“Enough!” Shepard tore the covers over her head. “Just go.”

“All right. You want this data from your old Omni-Tool? Your scattered conversations with crew. Even added all together, they aren’t anywhere near the message volume with your lieutenant. And the photos …”

“Go away, Miranda!” Shepard lurched up in bed and jabbed a finger at the door. “Get out.”

“The data off your Omni-Tool?”

“Go!”

Miranda frowned but lifted her chin. Shepard held her stare, blood rushing in her ears. Finally, Miranda shut her Omni-Tool off and turned away. Her boots crunched over the picture’s broken glass on her way to the door. Shepard fell back and sank under the covers. She huddled in the sheets and hung on the swish of the closing door. Miranda’s footsteps receded away.

Shepard pulled the sheets tighter to her face, rebreathing air, watching the darkness glow with the light of her implants. The conversations, memories, the sound of his voice on Horizon, it all choked her. She crawled out of bed and slunk up the steps. She lifted the broken picture frame out of a tinkling of glass shards. It lit up. Kaidan’s face stared back at her through a web of cracks. She set it on her desk.

The reapers were all that mattered. The time left was only a countdown. She had to remember that. She wasn’t in a place to convince the Alliance or Council, but maybe Kaidan would. He’d come so far since the SR-1. Staff Commander now. File too classified for even Cerberus to touch it. Without her – because she hadn’t been there – he cast his own shadow now. Noticed, motivated, earning his way. Everything she wanted for him. So fit and handsome. A smile curved her lips, but it soured as she gazed at the photo. He was hurt, no denying it, but that would pass. He was on the Alliance’s leadership fast-track. Possibilities lay before him. With his rising status in the Alliance and now having been reminded of the reapers, he could strike from an angle she’d lost. Nothing mattered beyond the single aim of taking down the reapers. It was bigger than two people and better kept that way. She didn’t need anyone. Never had.

“Move on, Kaidan. I let you go.”

He stared back at her through the shattered glass, cracks splitting his face. Shepard turned away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dietmoonfairy -- Your comment on "Burning Barriers" is what got me thinking about Horizon and Mars. I never considered writing something set in-game before. Thanks for the wonderful suggestion!
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Glyph_Drone. I've never had a beta before, and it's been great having an outside perspective improve my writing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Six Months Earlier**

“Bravo team’s in position, Commander.” The comm crackled in Kaidan’s ear.

“Stand by.” Kaidan took the binoculars from Corporal Tennyson. He looked through the straw grass and brought the base into focus. Base one of three. The other two were someone else’s problem tonight. Kaidan touched his ear. “Private Errol, you’re at the wheel?”

“Yes, sir.” The voice boomed over the comm.

Kaidan’s ears rang. Corporal Tennyson fumbled with the volume on his comm. The other marines cringed touching their ears. New recruits. Always too loud. A month out of basic, boots on the ground for the first time, and a real clip in their Lance IVs – they probably had more adrenaline than blood in their veins. And Kaidan had three of them. 

Private Richardson and Private Qassab, the other greenies, hunched at Kaidan’s side. They licked their lips glancing back and forth between Kaidan and the base. Richardson kept checking the seals on his armor and recounting his clips. Private Errol, the hotshot out of the three, would be the one getting himself killed one day. He’d dive into the thick of it, ‘la-la-la’ing to Kaidan’s voice in his ear, invincible until the first shell took him off his feet. If Errol survived that, he’d make a good soldier with the lesson still ringing in his ears. But Errol wasn’t getting that lesson today. Not on Kaidan’s watch. Not when the lesson could mean collecting dog tags. 

Errol’s confidence was perfect for the brazenness of a con though. His ears stuck out, big teeth, a goofy youthfulness seeping out of his pores. No one would think Alliance when he pulled up to the base’s dock. The base’s guards were going to be confused by Errol’s equipment invoice, sure, but they weren’t going to be wondering if the truck had Bravo team instead of rifles parts.

“I’ll give the mark, Private,” Kaidan reminded Errol on the comm. 

Kaidan turned to Qassab and Richardson. Qassab’s fingers tightened on the barrel of her rifle, stilling the quiver up her arm. Nerves or excitement or both. Qassab didn’t need the confidence-killer of realizing her CO had noticed the tremor. Kaidan kept his gaze passing by to the next marine. Errol had too much confidence, Qassab not enough, and Richardson was just … something different. Spacey. 

Kaidan drew in the rest of the team. Six in all. “Qassab, Richardson. You get the grenade belts from Heath?” 

Qassab nodded, but Richardson checked his waist.

“Yes, sir,” Richardson said.

“Good. You are in the second line with me.” Kaidan twisted to Corporal Tennyson. The corporal was a veteran. Not a lot of first hand combat, most from armored vehicle, but he knew what he was about. He was stable and focused. If Lieutenant Sisko had to be absent leading Bravo team, then Tennyson was a solid second choice for taking point.

“Corporal Tennyson will take point, Smith and Bassel on flank. Bassel, you’re covering Duran. Duran, you’ll focus on setting up turrets immediately upon entry. Let’s hit them fast and hard, raise enough hell to draw all the attention our way.”

Richardson actually raised his hand. Corporal Tennyson stifled a smirk with the back of his hand and glanced sideways at Kaidan.

“Yes, Private?” Kaidan asked.

“Sir, are Qassab and I are firing at will? I mean, with the grenades? We got so many.”

Kaidan kept his voice even and paced. Again? How many times did he – Kaidan drew a deep breath. They were straight out of the box. Just had to keep reminding himself of that. First mission. Life and death. They needed reassurance on their role.

“Qassab, Richardson,” Kaidan said looking between them. “Lob the grenades against the far wall. There are doors on either side in the back. We can’t get across the warehouse until the security system’s down. Drones, automated turrets, and men. Target the doors with grenades from afar. We’ll stop anyone getting into the back for the hostages. We’ll draw a lot of heat from the connected buildings, but no one gets through to those doors. Understood? And, yes, you’re self-directed on this. Qassab focus left. Richardson, right. Come in behind me, then fan out. Stay behind the Corporal’s front line, set up cover, and stay behind Duran’s turrets.”

Qassab’s jaw tightened, but she bobbed her head, clutching her rifle in a vice. Richardson squinted at his feet with a deep frown. When Kaidan ducked and caught his eye. Richardson straightened, gave a sharp nod, and looked away.

“Another question? Something still unclear?” Kaidan said eyes on Richardson.

“We understand,” Qassab answered, voice squeaking. She cleared her throat and pulled her posture taller. “We understand, sir.”

“I’m asking Private Richardson. Any problem, let’s clear it up now. We go in, it’ll be too late for questions. What are your other questions, Richardson?”

Richardson flicked a cagey sideways glance at Qassab and lifted his chin. “Nothing, sir. I’m sorry you had to repeat yourself.”

Kaidan waited, but Richardson stared over Kaidan’s shoulder, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and a sheen of sweat catching light around his hairline. Qassab frowned openly in Richardson’s direction. Qassab needed Kaidan’s confidence in her to bolster her confidence in herself. Being lumped in with Richardson, stained by his hesitancy and double guessing, probably wasn’t helping. Kaidan should have thought of that. Next time, he’d make sure to refer to the recruits separately, make it clear he saw them as distinct. 

The other marines were growing restless. Bassel, Duran, and Smith fidgeted. Duran checked settings on his Omni-Tool and kept glancing down toward the base.

“Any questions?” Kaidan looked around them. “I’d rather repeat myself a hundred times than write one letter to someone’s mom. No questions at all?”

He fixed Richardson with a look, but Richardson’s eyes shifted to Qassab next to him. He shook his head.

“Get ready then. I’ll make contact with Bravo team, then we’re going on in,” Kaidan said. He tapped Corporal Tennyson on the shoulder and took him to the side. “Find out Richardson’s question. Do it casual, outside the group. I’ll touch base with Sisko.”

Corporal Tennyson sighed through his teeth. “We’ve gone over the plan again and again with him.”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Kaidan said. “Just get the question out of him. Say you were a little confused, too, by the way I explained the plan, but now I’ve clarified it with you. Draw it out of him. Safe zone it. And keep away from Qassab.”

Tennyson rolled a tired look back at Richardson. “Why did Major Calvar give us three of ‘em? Commander Dotson only has one wet-ears. Commander Weather doesn’t have any. Zero. We’ve got three.”

Major Calvar always gave them to Kaidan. Kaidan wasn’t about to admit any irritation, but dammit if he didn’t wonder the same thing. Every time. The fresh-faced cherubs were always toddled his direction for a first combat mission.

“Corporal.” Kaidan settled a firm look on him.

“I’ll go talk to him, sir,” Tennyson growled. He dragged his rifle out of the grass and ambled to Richardson.

Major Calvar was overseeing the three simultaneous base assaults. Dotson and Weather were already in position. The message blinked on Kaidan’s Omni-Tool. Off by a few minutes was all right but if they didn’t want reinforcements overwhelming a single base Kaidan needed to get a move on it. The other bases had valuable Alliance assets to repossess, intel to gather, and a threat to neutralize. Any of the three of the planet’s bases could have the abducted colonists, but Kaidan knew they were here. It’s why he asked for it.

“Private Errol?” Kaidan said into his comm, heard the confirmation. “Approach the dock with the cargo. Ten minute count starts … now. Alfa team getting into position. Lieutenant Sisko?”

“Sir?” Sisko said on the comm.

“Bravo team’s hunkered down? Turrets in position?” 

“Confirmed, sir. They open the hatch, we’ll be showered in Cerberus blood, Commander. Wish I had a rubber duck.”

“Just get to the hostages,” Kaidan said. “We can bleed Cerberus later.”

“Understood, sir.”

Corporal Tennyson jogged up to Kaidan. “Got him to crack, Commander. Worried about running out of grenades, and then what should he do? Also, don’t think he caught you wanting him to line up behind Bassel’s right turret. He didn’t even have a holoshield on him. I made him get it from equipment.”

“He didn’t have—nevermind. He has it now?”

Tennyson folded his arms with a sigh but gave a single nod. 

“Good,” Kaidan said. “Then we’re all clear?”

“He’s not nervously scratching a blister into the back of his neck anymore, so I hope so.”

Kaidan clapped Tennyson on the arm. “Good job. Round them up. We’ll get into formation at eighty meters out, then at my call. Let’s make Cerberus pay.”

“They’re gonna keep sweeping our colonies, if we don’t,” Tennyson said.

“Let’s make a point to leave an impression then. Come on.” Kaidan hoisted his rifle up and motioned for Tennyson to take point.

* * *

Raids like this, Kaidan wished he had another biotic on the team. If he wasn’t leading the teams he would have taken point and breached the front gate. They leaped over rocks, crossing open ground, driving to the front gate. Cerberus bullets glanced off their shields and cracked their armor. A biotic shield covering the charge would have given better security. They reached the base’s gate. No casualties.

Duran set the charges. They covered their ears and hunched down. Metal ripped apart in the blast. When Kaidan looked up, the gate was already falling inward hanging on torn hinges. Qassab froze next to Kaidan. She blinked at the troopers swarming on the other side, their shadowed outlines darkening the tears in the gate’s metal. Kaidan pushed her forward and into action. He yelled the men back into formation to breach the door. It didn’t take much to break it down. They burst into the facility’s warehouse, a wide space with metal walls and chained walkways overhead. Freight crowded the ground floor. 

Again, Kaidan wished he had a biotic on the team. Someone other than himself to hurl the startled guards off the walkways overhead. Someone to cover their heads with a shield when the guards finally unfroze and aimed their guns downward. Someone to slap their grenades back at them with a biotic slap before they exploded. A grenade sailed overhead. Kaidan slammed Richardson to the floor and held out a biotic shield. Shrapnel tore the wall behind them. It chipped the concrete by their feet.

“To the right. Behind the turret.” Kaidan shoved Richardson sideway. “Go!”

Tennyson swept out the front line. He motioned for them to set up cover behind holoshields. Ahead on Kaidan’s right, Duran hunched behind Bassel and stabilized his turret. Bravo team chattered in Kaidan’s ear. They had control of the docks. Kaidan pressed the comm in his ear and confirmed. 

“Continue inside,” Kaidan said. “Lock the dock’s gate. We’ll draw fire. Hostiles converging from side entrances, but defending the the back doors. Under control.”

“We’ll shut down the security system when we find the panel,” Sisko said.

“Secure the hostages first.”

“Understood, sir.”

Troopers poured through the warehouse’s side doors with raised weapons. Tennyson focused the front line on hitting the entrances hard. Shots exploded around the room. They swelled into the room. A trooper near the front flinched when his shield broke. Kaidan stood and Threw him. The trooper slammed into the men behind him. They struggled over each other in a pile. Kaidan gave a sharp Pull. A trooper at the bottom yanked through the heap of bodies. Troopers tumbled back over themselves, some rolled across the floor. The dazed cluster fumbled for their scattered weapons. Kaidan motioned Smith and Tennyson at them. They bared down at them taking close-range shots while the troopers floundered.

The security system’s turrets fired in the distance, mounted on the back wall and in the warehouse’s center. The reason they couldn't charge straight through to the back door. No matter. It was more important to draw the facility’s troopers to Alpha team and let Bravo secure the hostages. Then they could worry about shutting down the system and regrouping.

Combat drones clicked online. Kaidan’s blood slowed. He hadn’t expected that. Security turrets, sure, but not drones. Kaidan dodged between crates and peered down the lines of shipping containers to find the sound. There they were, lifting out of the ground in the back. Dammit. Kaidan’s eyes burned with the image of Jenkins dead on the ground. First time in combat and last. Kaidan shivered.

He craned his neck to find Qassab. Good. She was keeping up with the grenades and tucked behind a holoshield with her back to the wall. Duran was setting up a turret in front of her. Smith and Tennyson were providing a solid front line for insulating him. A trooper broke away from the side door and rushed at the back door. Qassab threw a grenade. The trooper was thrown back in the explosion. She had good timing and aim, covering the back door well, and reasonably protected behind the experienced soldiers. Richardson though … 

Kaidan spun the other direction. Richardson was a distant tangle of elbows struggling with his holoshield. It tipped it over. The shield’s holo-barrier crackled like static, fading in and out. Hell. Kaidan plunged down the corridor of crates along the wall. He ducked bullet fire and lifted his pistol up at the walkways. Troopers were gathering overhead, crowding the ladders. The troopers were starting to notice Richardson struggling. A grenade passed over Kaidan’s head. The explosion hit the turret covering Richardson. It clacked to the ground firing into the floor. 

Drones buzzed. So near. Their guns spun. Richardson looked up and froze. Kaidan plowed into him. They tumbled to the concrete in a spray of rapid gunfire. Kaidan pushed out a biotic shield and steadied on his heels. The drones gathered around them. Kaidan fired his pistol through a slot in his shield. The mod on his Razer VI packed enough of a punch to destabilize the drone’s shields. He Warped a drone bearing down on them. It crackled with biotic energy, parts vibrating, but aimed its guns point blank at Kaidan’s biotic shield. Kaidan hit it with Throw. It detonated with the combo. The drones behind it got caught in the blast. They spun into pillars and broke against the wall. 

Bassel peeked around a freight box a few meters away. Kaidan waved him over. Dammit. He was the one supposed to be holding the front line on this side. Kaidan stretched his neck to see the other side of the warehouse. A quick check brought everyone’s affirmative, except one. 

“Tennyson?” Kaidan said into comm.

“Commander?” Tennyson panted.

“Qassab? I didn’t hear her.”

“Uh, pinned down, sir.”

“Keep those grenades focused on the back doors. Get Qassab moving on it.”

“Aye, aye,” Tennyson said. In the comm’s background, Kaidan could hear him yelling at someone. “Qassab, move your ass. Smith, cover her. Get those grenades focused.”

Movement caught Kaidan’s eye. He yanked a grenade from Richardson’s belt and slung it at the back door on their side. Two hostiles turned their heads to see but were almost at the door. They dodged. The blast caught them. They tripped forward wheeling their arms to not land on their faces. Their shields were down. Biotic energy swirled in Kaidan’s hand, his chest expanded, and he released it. It actually worked for once. Worked for once outside of a sim. The nearest trooper screamed as energy spread over him. He writhed. Chainmailed energy rippled across Kaidan’s armor. Power fluxed into his barrier, energy boosting him like a deep breath. The other hostile knocked down by the grenade struggled onto her knees. Her shields were still broken from the grenade’s blast. Kaidan’s shot sprayed blood out the back of her throat. She fell backward and didn’t move. 

“Keep focused on the back door,” Kaidan pulled Richardson up by the arm and turned to Bassel. “Help him with the holoshield, Chief. You’re front line this side. Cover him.” 

Bassel didn’t meet Kaidan’s eye. He nodded and grabbed the flickering shield at Richardson’s feet. Man was too focused on offense than defense. Richardson stumbled between the crates and stopped with a clear view of the back door. Three troopers were nearly on it. Richardson slung a grenade with a grunt and whipped his rifle up. Fired. Their shields went down. Kaidan finished them off with a biotic combo. Kaidan met Richardson and Bassel’s eyes. They nodded, taking their positions, and Kaidan dodged away. 

He shielded himself from shots overhead. He righted Duran’s tipped over turret still shooting into the floor. A couple of troopers were sneaking between the crates. Kaidan tilted the turret their direction. They dove for cover under the putt-putt of the turret’s mechanized firing. Kaidan Warped a trooper’s shield and Pulled him into the line of fire. The comm crackled. 

“Meeting low resistance back here, Commander,” Lieutenant Sisko said.

“Any sign of the colonists?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Keep looking.” Kaidan switched his comm to Tennyson. “Keep up the pressure, Corporal. Bravo team’s still searching.”

“Can’t turn these damn drones and mounted turrets off yet?”

“That’s not the priority. Just hold back from the center.”

More feet jangled on the bridge above. The troopers were starting to coordinate and focus their fire. They were all taking aim at … oh, no. Kaidan switched back to Richardson and Bassel, cowering behind a crate, and spread a biotic shield over them. He gritted his teeth from the increasing barrage of bullets. Overhead, the metal bridge swung as the troopers crowded on. More of the troopers were seeking the advantage of higher ground than staying on the ground floor. Kaidan had been waiting for enough to make it worth what he wanted to do. More than enough now. 

Combat drones converged on them. Five of them. Kaidan and Bassel turned and fired their weapons at the drones, while Richardson concentrated on the door. Kaidan hit one of the drones with a series of Warps. It exploded into ricocheting bolts and a spray of sparks. Bullets from his pistol then Warp and a well-aimed Throw. The combo shook surrounding crates. Two of the drones went down. The remaining three spread out. The strain of holding the biotic shield was starting to jitter his bones, make him shaky. Sweat burned on his flushing skin. Kaidan looked up at the chained walkway overhead. He hooked two grenades from Richardson’s belt. They were getting short, but two was enough. 

“Bassel, Richardson. Take cover.”

Kaidan dropped his biotic shield. He flared and threw a grenade. He guided it to the ceiling. It exploded. The walkway’s middle chains ripped from their overhead support. Metal screeched and tore, the walkway sagged in on itself. Men stumbled toward the end of the walkway dropping guns and shoving each other. They fought for the ladder. Kaidan pulled the ring on the second grenade. With a biotic twist, he threw it to the top of the ladder. The blast buckled the bridge. It hung by one main chain system opposite the ladder. Kaidan tore at it with his biotics. His skull vibrated, teeth buzzing, legs starting to quiver. He pressed harder, tearing and working on the bolt in the ceiling. Troopers clung to the rails working themselves down the dropping bridge to a low drop off point. A few jumped. The last major support gave way. Metal tore, weaker chains snapping, and men falling over the rails. It fell.

“Cover!” Kaidan shouted into his comm.

Across the warehouse, the corporal’s team dove behind the freight. Walkways crashed down on the crates between them. It erupted in a blast of breaking panels and torn drywall. 

“Richardson, stay on the back door. Bassel, with me.” Kaidan tapped his arm and dove into the wreckage. They hopped over twisted railing and crushed crates. Troopers moaned across the floor, dazed, and crushed. “Tennyson, Duran, let’s clean this up. Smith cover Qassab. Keep on the back doors.”

The troopers’ shields were offline making them easy pickings. The few who got up or had escaped the collapse rushed for the exits. Kaidan tracked their retreat with his pistol and fired clip after clip. 

“Still have drones,” Tennyson said.

Kaidan ducked behind a pillar. A drone shot the pillar’s edge into dust. Kaidan shot a couple of troopers struggling across from him. He glanced around the pillar at the drone and threw a Warp. Its shields flickered but held. Kaidan’s comm came to life.

“Can’t find Qassab, Commander,” Smith said.

Kaidan swung around the pillar, dodging the drone, and lifted a chunk of torn drywall. He hurled it at the drone as he ducked past. The drywall smashed the drone into the wall.

“Qassab?” Kaidan panted into his comm. He lunged over the twisted wreckage between him and Tennyson’s group.

“I’m holding the back door, Commander.” Qassab’s voice. Kaidan stopped short, his breath returning, and felt his heart slow. “Sorry, sir. Ran out of grenades. Saw two bogeys trying for the door. Got there first. Held them off.”

Kaidan frowned. How … He listened for the mounted turrets firing on the wall. Offline. Bravo team must have stumbled across the security program. Only a few mobile drones were left, but Tennyson and Smith made short work of them. Kaidan shot two troopers wobbling up with their guns. There weren’t many left. 

“Robertson guard the back door on your side. Bassel, Smith, back them up. The rest, let’s mop this up.” 

They still had troopers who had escaped outside, a few stragglers dodging through the crates inside.

“Commander,” Lieutenant Sisko said on the comm.

“Lieutenant, give me good news,” Kaidan said.

“We’ve got them, sir. Two dozen survivors. All of them.”

Kaidan’s chest loosened. “Good work. Leave Errol and Omston. Clear and secure the area outward. We’ll do the same. Hostile forces almost eliminated in the main building.”

“Aye, sir. Got the security system – or at least the turret system – down also, if you hadn’t noticed. We’ll secure the back. Meet you in the middle.”

With the world finally slowing, Kaidan tasted metal in his mouth. He lifted his helmet off and touched his nose. Blood. Kaidan raised his eyes to the torn ceiling. Around him, Cerberus troopers struggled, pinned and dying under the metal wreckage. He wiped the blood from his nose, bones jittery, wavering on his feet. Worth it.

A chill ran down his neck, and he glanced around again. There was a strange feeling to this place. Something familiar, but so faint it felt almost imagined. It played on the edge of his senses, both exciting and sickening. He shook it off.

“Secure the interior,” Kaidan ordered


	3. Chapter 3

Kaidan walked around the Cerberus lab. The colonists sat against the wall. Richardson may have frozen in his first fight, but he was making up for it now with his medic training. The colonists watched Kaidan from across the room, hollow eyes and shaky hands but they were alive. Their cool gaze followed him as he strolled around the lab. It made the hairs rise on the back of his neck. They were young and healthy or, rather, healthy before this. Only young and healthy, the reason at first the Alliance thought it was a batarian slave raid on Goldfeller. Kaidan had known differently. From the first sentence of the report he’d known.

“Hostiles eliminated,” Lieutenant Sisko said coming through the side door. “Last two were going to go down with the ship. No surrender.”

Kaidan frowned. “Got their audio logs?”

“Yes, sir. Got Bassel sorting them now. Just usual chatter. No discussions of shooting the hostages.”

“That’s … good.” Kaidan evaluated the colonists out of the corner of his eye. A woman sitting in the corner was staring at them, eyes sharp and alert.

“They’re ferocious though,” Sisko said.

“Hmm?” Kaidan focused back on him.

“These Cerberus guys. It’s like they’ve got one purpose. Went through their barracks clearing the area. Nothing personal. No trinkets, pictures, nothing like that. Took off a helmet. They don't look right.”

“What do you mean?” Kaidan frowned. “You touched the bodies?”

“Just ... they seemed so ... I dunno. So, yeah, took off a helmet. Scars and machinery. I think they’ve been altered. Might explain Cerberus having their explosion of new troops, right? Synthetics?”

“Chattering on the radio, bleeding, cursing when they’re shot? They're not synthetics.” Kaidan folded his arms. He glanced at the colonists again. “The scientists are dead in the corner. Executed.”

“This tech’s pretty sophisticated.” Sisko glanced around them. 

Kaidan moved his eyes over the equipment around the lab -- oxygen tanks, complicated-looking machinery along the wall, glass cupboards with sharp tools, scales, laser generators, broken terminals. Kaidan’s skin prickled. That strange feeling he’d been getting since entering the lab. It’s how he knew something here was worth finding. That, and the silenced heap of dead scientists. A familiar feeling, like an electrical current, a rhythm. Kaidan concentrated on it.

“Colonists haven’t said much, huh?” Sisko asked. “Someone tried questioning them?”

“No, they need time to –” Kaidan remembered, “Eden Prime.” 

Kaidan spun around and faced the full expanse of fluorescent lighting and bleached countertops. The feeling _ was _familiar. He felt it on Eden Prime. Felt it on Virmire. Felt it in the Battle of the Citadel. 

“Very sophisticated tech,” Kaidan said.

He ran a hand along the counter, letting the feeling pull him. Broken beakers, discarded electrodes, cracked monitors, sticky chemicals. He stopped. His fingers paused over a metal cube the size of his palm. An oil-like sheen covered the surface made of a jigsaw-web of different alloys. He picked it up. His teeth buzzed. A rush of ecstasy surged through his veins. A frenzy of euphoria and vertigo intoxicated him. It overwhelmed the needling discomfort at his core. Kaidan slammed it back on the counter and stood back.

That was new. Kaidan panted, choking on the afterglow -- pleasure tainted with unease. His insides churned still eyeing it. He locked his knees against the urge to step toward it again. That feeling he’d been sensing. It was reaper tech. He’d seen some of it at other Cerberus facilities. This self-proclaimed “Illusive Man,” their leader, was obsessed with it. Cerberus was taking leaps in technology by manipulating something they couldn’t understand. 

The reaper-inspired Cerberus technology Kaidan recovered and brought to the Alliance and Council as proof never convinced them of the reaper threat. Cerberus’s technology was an enigma, they said. Certainly, almost inexplicably advanced, perhaps stolen from the protheans, but never evidence of the reapers. How could it, when they didn’t exist. Anderson believed Kaidan, but the human councilor was one voice in a wave of scoffing protests. 

This, though. This was reaper tech in pure form, had to be. Kaidan shuffled a step closer. _ This _ would convince the council. He’d need a safe way to transport it though. He’d need to keep it safe. Keep it with him. Maybe under his bed aboard the ship. Best not to tell anyone either. Captain Gilbreath and Major Calvar wouldn’t understand. Kaidan’s fingers closed over the cube. Euphoria thrilled him with a wave of nausea and dizziness. He lifted the artifact.

_ You can fight this! _ Shepard’s voice echoed in his memory, the Citadel burning around them, Saren struggling against compulsion. _ Some part of you must still realize this is wrong. _ Kaidan hurled the artifact across the room. It boomed against the wall in a biotic flash of light. Metal bits scattered across the linoleum. Kaidan rushed over and ground his heel on the metal pieces. He didn’t stop until the buzzing in his teeth died away. 

Sisko gaped. “Sir, why –”

“Get everyone out of the lab,” Kaidan said. “Move the colonists outside for extraction. I’m going to search the lab. Document this. Then bring me the charges from our supply.”

“Charges, sir?” Sisko’s eyes widened. He came over and lowered his voice. “Blow the base? No disrespect, but shouldn’t you clear that with the major first? Our secondary mission objective was to determine Cerberus’s purpose in abducting colonists.”

“I know the purpose,” Kaidan said sharply. 

The hordes of Cerberus soldiers these last six months were different. Kaidan never thought to touch their bodies, look under the helmet, but something was different. Single-minded, consumed. They’d kill themselves in a heartbeat for the goal. Never stumbled on their orders. They had the momentum of defending a homeland, not cutting a paycheck. Faith in a pro-human agenda could create that fervor maybe. They could be brainwashed into seeing the glory of Cerberus’s higher purpose. This lab though … The Illusive Man wasn’t just researching reaper tech for better weapons, advanced spaceships, and improved software. He was studying indoctrination. Kaidan’s mouth went dry.

“What do you mean, Commander?” Sisko asked. “You know why Cerberus took them? Why?”

“Move everyone out, Lieutenant. Alert medical aboard the dreadnaught. The colonists need full evaluations. I think … they’ve been experimented on."

When Kaidan reviewed the attack on Goldridge, he had known it was Cerberus. The abductors hadn’t killed the old and young like slavers do. They left them drugged and confused, but not gunned down. It was the small colonies being attacked, sometimes just the outskirts of one, but well within Cerberus’s means. Kaidan knew Cerberus well enough by now to trust that elusive feeling in his gut. Their calling card. Took what they needed, nothing more, nothing less. Shepard probably wouldn’t have even needed the report to figure it out. She’d have known what Cerberus planned before it even happened. She’d have prevented it. Saved them. Saved them before they’d been reduced to dead eyes and a lost gaze. Poor people. Lieutenant Sisko watched Kaidan with a frown.

“Now, Lieutenant,” Kaidan repeated. 

“Uh, right,” Sisko said. “Yes, sir.” 

Kaidan had destroyed the artifact, but there was still plenty of incriminating evidence here. The troopers may have killed the scientists and smashed what equipment they could, but there would be logs and data. Maybe enough to finally move Cerberus to the forefront of galactic security.

“The Council will want to see this,” Kaidan murmured.

“Let’s start collecting what we need and move everyone outside,” Sisko called into his comm.

The colonists shifted against the wall, whispering among each other, and giving Kaidan a dark look. Pale, gaunt, shaky, but they were suddenly all alert. Sisko turned to the colonists. The woman with the angular cheekbones watched him. 

She gasped. “Eric? Eric, it’s you.”

Sisko’s eyes expanded. “Mary?” He broke out of his surprise enough to focus on the soldiers by the door. “Bassel, Richardson, escort the colonists to the LZ. Qassab, hail the ship for medical triage.”

The men sprang into action. Sisko’s face split into a grin. He turned back to the woman.

“Mary! Damn. I was so – I had no idea you were here.”

He strode over to her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders with a bright, but weary smile.

“Commander,” Errol walked into Kaidan’s vision. “Sir, should we get an extra shuttle? I can call –”

“Sure, sure. Fine.” Kaidan waved him away and focused back on Sisko and the woman.

“They took you?” Sisko asked in a low voice. Qassab motioned at him, and Sisko nodded for her help the colonists file out. Sisko focused back on Mary. “I didn’t know you were here. My sister hoped you got away.”

“I hoped the Alliance would come.”

Kaidan shifted his weight, glass crackling under his boots, and narrowed his eyes on the happy reunion. Something felt off. Kaidan brought a list up on his Omni-Tool. The list of abducted colonists from Goldridge. Mary … Mary … He found a profile on a ‘Mary’ and expanded the picture. He glanced up and down between the woman in front of him and the profile picture. It was her. The tightness in his chest melted, and he dropped his arm back to his side. 

“Lieutenant,” Kaidan reminded Sisko. “I’ll search the lab, but everyone out. Have Smith and Duran bring me the charges. I’ll set them myself.” 

Sisko nodded. 

Mary tugged on his sleeve. “Remember Nancy’s warning at that Citadel rally? She said Cerberus would do something like this. Five C-Sec officers needed to hold her down. If they’d only listened …”

“Sorry, Mary.” Sikso removed her hand from his wrist. “Let’s get everyone checked out, then we can catch up.”

“Catch up?” Mary grinned. “Just like old times.” 

Mary yanked something from Sisko’s utility belt. Kaidan’s heart rate spiked. It happened so fast. Kaidan’s pistol fired too late. Mary slung the grenade at the canisters of oxygen by the wall. The room exploded. 

* * *

Kaidan cracked his eyes open. Pain burned across his skin. Blurry fluorescence and stainless steel was all he could see. The stench of antiseptic and beep-beep-beeping of monitors. His skull had so much pressure it might explode. His muscles ached. The air stung his skin. It hurt to breathe. 

“He’s waking up,” a voice said. 

“He’s what? Good, good.” A familiar female voice. Major Calvar. “Can you hear me? Commander Alenko?”

Kaidan gulped for a full breath. He tried to clear his vision. His eyes ached, each blink dry and heavy-lidded. He was aboard the ship. Med bay. 

“What …” Kaidan tried to focus. “The colonist …”

“Yes, that seems to be the story.” Major Calvar leaned into view, her face pinched and hard. “Colonist threw a grenade, or so I’m hearing. Sisko’s dead. The colonists too. All of them. You and Richardson got caught in the blast.”

His biotic barrier must have absorbed the brunt of it, but he’d been fatigued. It must not have held long in the explosion. 

“Why would she …” Kaidan struggled to remember.

“Sir.” A high-pitched male voice. Dr. Hernandez. “Major Calvar, please. You already bothered the private. If Commander Alenko’s waking up, I need to—”

“I understand.” Calver didn’t look at the doctor, just put a palm up in that direction. She stared down at Kaidan. “I want to know what was in that lab. Why a colonist would turn against us. You recover, but I want a report ASAP. Soon as you can dictate. Councilor Anderson’s been on the comm with Captain Gilbreath for hours. Asking questions.”

Kaidan couldn’t nod but made eye contact to show he understood. His nerves screamed from looking into the light. Dr. Hernandez pushed Major Calvar aside and flapped a hand at her. The doctor grabbed clear tubing dangling overhead and injected something. Everything washed away into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Anderson motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Kaidan winced crossing the room. His whole body ached. The Citadel’s holographic sky was sharper than real sunlight and not helping his headache. It hadn’t abated since the explosion. He rarely had headaches that lasted over a full week. A part of him always wondered if this would be the one that never went away.

“Still roughed up?” Anderson asked.

Anderson paced by the window next to his desk. Kaidan stopped at the chair Anderson had indicated and fell down on it in a heavy heap.

“I’m all right, sir.” Kaidan resisted the urge to rub his forehead. He pulled up straighter in his seat.

“Read your Alliance mission report.” Anderson eyed him. “Didn’t answer many questions.”

“Just the facts,” Kaidan said.

“I suppose observations and theories aren’t helping your career much.” Anderson stopped by his desk. He gripped the back of his chair. “Hasn’t helped me either, I’m afraid.”

“Those six months of Terminus assignments after the …” Kaidan dropped his eyes and took a deep breath. The sterile smell of copy paper and recycled oxygen tickled his nose. “You know shouting the truth only got me pushed further away. At least in a whisper, I’m allowed close enough someone might hear.”

“Like me?” Anderson smiled. He pulled out his chair and sat. He steepled his fingers on the desk. “Tell me, Alenko. Would you have come to me with this one? Have you given up on me getting something done?”

Kaidan studied his hands in his lap. “I didn’t find much more than any of the other Cerberus bases. Nothing to convince anyone.”

“Captain Gilbreath’s report said you planned to blow the Cerberus base. Base two. You left that out of your report. I imagine Alliance Command will have some questions about that. I would – and _ am _– asking.” 

Kaidan sighed. He leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair. “It’s irrelevant. The colonist destroyed the lab before I could search it. Document anything.”

“But then you planned to destroy it yourself? You haven’t made a habit of unilaterally deciding to destroy the other Cerberus sites we’ve taken.”

“No,” Kaidan agreed. Anderson’s steady gaze eased Kaidan’s breathing. “It was … I think the Illusive Man is studying reaper indoctrination.”

“That’s not news,” Anderson said. “Your little extracurricular last year turned that up, the Illusive Man’s plans to develop mind control capabilities for himself.”

“His intention. Desire.” Kaidan shrugged. “I didn’t really think – It seemed too sci-fi. Reaper indoctrination though, that’s real. The Cerberus troopers at this last base? Their bodies were turned over to Alliance Medical. You read the autopsies?”

“Photos looked like a more organic version of a husk. Only alive and still mostly human.”

Kaidan couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing the actual autopsy photos. Words were enough. He couldn’t click the photo link. He didn’t need anything more to see at night when he closed his eyes.

“The colonists were being indoctrinated, converted or something,” Kaidan said. “I don’t know. Mary Thrombe, the colonist with the grenade, she greeted Lieutenant Sisko like she knew him. She didn’t seem like a husk. The Cerberus soldiers didn’t seem like husks. Hell, this woman -- colonist -- hugged Sisko. Reflexive maybe. Seemed pleased to see him, even remembered something about his sister. Then she found out I’d be inspecting the lab, probably saw me resist compulsion. When Sisko turned his back …” Kaidan swallowed a dry lump. “We could have brought her aboard and never known. Any of them could have sabotaged the Alliance dreadnaught, killed three hundred Cerberus enemies. And worse if they’d dispersed, found niches to aid Cerberus.”

“Their transformation or whatever …” Anderson said uncertainly, “it wasn’t complete?”

“The colonists looked normal. Human. Held in cells. Maybe their purpose was different than the troopers. Indoctrination doesn’t require implants. Saren said it’s only strengthened by it. They could be tools for more subtle work requiring some finesse. It may not require the heavy-handed control needed for controlling a trooper. Maybe they were meant to be sleeper agents, not fighters. But, we’ll never know.”

“Hmm.” Anderson thumped back in his chair. Skycars streamed past the windows, light catching on their windshields. Anderson followed them with his eyes for a moment. He looked back at Kaidan. “You seem to be doing well. Doing well aside from getting caught in a blast.”

“Lieutenant Sisko’s dead.” Kaidan’s jaw tightened. “His service is in three days on Arcturus.”

“You’ve lost a lot of comrades.” Anderson sighed.

Kaidan shifted in his chair, but didn’t say anything.

“You still following Cerberus leads instead of enjoying shore leave like a normal marine?” Anderson asked. “You should be with your friends in a bar crawl on Nos Astra or visiting your folks on Earth. Last Christmas you spent the twenty-sixth filling me in on your findings from Omega. Rough place to spend the season.”

“I had a source on Omega saying Cerberus agents were profiling candidates for recruitment. I thought if … Well, none of that turned out, did it? Council didn’t think it meant anything.”

“You spending your nights and weekends collecting other Cerberus leads? That data you’re gleaning from Alliance servers? Yes, I know about it. A lot of reading. A lot of reports unrelated to your current assignments. Classified intel. Then there are all these sources of yours. Interviewing and threatening them – who knows what – just to get a whiff of Cerberus.”

Kaidan squirmed in his chair. “You make it sound shady. And, I don’t threaten them – well, not physically.”

“I don’t take it as anything illegal per se. Alliance Command might have a different opinion though. All the data you’re intercepting … But, they won’t hear about it from me.” 

Anderson pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. He tapped a plaque onto the desk facing Kaidan. Polished ebony, a striped medal under glass, and engraved brass front. . Kaidan’s heart slowed. The Palladium Star. 

“Battle of the Citadel. Commander Shepard’s.” Anderson rocked back in his chair. “You have a similar one, right? Have it set out anywhere?”

“Left it at my parents’,” Kaidan said, throat hollow, vision consumed by the letters on the plaque. Shepard. Thin lines, simple font, light engraving. Common and empty. Nothing like the woman. She was more than seven letters could convey. Yet those seven letters meant everything to him.

“Left it at your parents?” Anderson prompted.

Kaidan could only nod. He left it in his room, or rather, the room that used to be his when he lived at home. Weeks after leaving, on comm one night, his mother had lifted it up to the screen, eyes dewy and crinkled in a smile. His dad’s chest puffed out. Kaidan had never shown it to them. They must have known he received it, read about it or saw a vid, but he’d never spoken of it. It hadn’t mattered. In that moment on the comm -- his mother polishing his name on the plaque, Dad grinning into the camera – Kaidan had choked with guilt. Guilt he hadn’t bothered to tell them. Guilt it made them proud. Guilt that he only felt hurt when he looked at it. It meant more to them than it did to him. To them, it was something honorary, impressive, exciting. To him, it meant grief. Breath constricted in his throat, the air becoming heavy. Her medal stared back at him. Not now. Now wasn’t the time. He stamped down the rising ache. He needed to focus on something else. Work.

Anderson rubbed a thumb over her name, and his eyes shifted to Kaidan. “Even with all those junk assignments in the Terminus System, the brass trying to silence any talk of the reapers, you made something of those assignments. You took risks, pushed hard, but pulled back when you needed, too. Staff Commander Santiago went down, you stepped up. Like Alchera.”

Kaidan regulated each breath, itching to look away from Anderson’s heavy gaze.

“You fast tracked yourself,” Anderson said, “drew attention. Not sure that was your intent. And these spec op missions they’ve given you this last year – hell, anymore, even I need special permission to see your file.”

“Anything you want to know just ask.”

“I know that.” Anderson interlocked his hands across his waist and sat back. “You’ve been the thorn in Cerberus’s backside, whether they know it or not. These leads you turn up, like the colonists being held on that planet, one of those three bases, you’ve gotten Alliance backing. Convincing them to send a ship to investigate? Takes guts. A lot on the line if you’re wrong. I heard Alliance brass talking about you the other day. You and Cerberus. You’re getting a reputation for prerogative and uncanny intuition.”

“I don’t know how uncanny.” Kaidan shifted in his seat, crossed and recrossed his arms on his chest. “I’ve been following them. You start to recognize patterns.”

“I know this. You think, I don’t know this?” Anderson hunched forward and stared at him. “It’s all you do, Alenko.”

The urge to look away was too much, and Kaidan let his eyes drift to the wall over Anderson’s shoulder.

“I’m developing my biotics,” Kaidan said. “I met with asari justicars during my project on Reinnius last year. Picked up a new skill. They weren’t sure a human could do it, but I’ve been working on it. Unreliable, but I might pull it off. One day.”

“Biotics. Cerberus. Alliance.” Anderson pushed Shepard’s medal to the edge of the desk in front of Kaidan. Kaidan couldn’t help staring at the letters. “This why you do it, Alenko? The Normandy? Everyone you lost there? Shepard?”

Kaidan’s throat scorched with the heat rising in his breath. SHEPARD burned into his retinas.

“She …”

“Yes?” Anderson folded his hands.

“The Commander hated Cerberus. I failed her with the reapers. I won’t fail her with this too.”

“You’re thinking of Akuze. This is your way to avenge her?”

“Alliance Intelligence can’t figure out who destroyed the Normandy. No one believes me about the reapers. If I fight Cerberus, I’m fighting the people who hurt her. The ones who murdered her comrades in a passing curiosity, changed her life, left her an only survivor. Again. This is all I can do for her. The only work of hers I can finish. I can’t even do that right half the time.”

Kaidan rubbed at his arm, hair singed off, skin raw, and palm blistered. His skull pounded with the headache that wouldn’t go away. The explosion still rang in his ears when it was silent. Hunting Cerberus, gathering leads, analyzing data late at night – it was the only time he felt close to her. The only time him living and her dying mattered for something good. There had to be purpose in him surviving. If there wasn’t … He couldn’t let his mind go down that road again.

Kaidan pulled his mind the other direction. Exposing Cerberus would expose the reapers. The two were inexorably linked. The Illusive Man worshiped their technology. He was a step away from worshiping them. The experiments Kaidan had seen were true evil. Evil as deep as the reapers. It haunted him. Labs reeking of death, the mutilations, the silence of a room full of bodies. All for scientific ‘what if’s.’ The reapers annihilated and destroyed, but Cerberus went beyond just destroying. They treated humans inhumanely in the name of humanity. Bile burned the back of Kaidan's tongue.

“How have you really been?” Anderson broke Kaidan from the trance. “You seem … lighter. This last mission. Maybe it wasn’t a success by the definition of it, but you did lock down the base. Rescued the colonist from Cerberus. No casualties or even serious injuries. The other two base assaults on the planet were not as lucky. If it was luck. If that colonist hadn’t turned against you, it would have been a very successful mission, especially with what you could have found in that lab.”

“Lieutenant Sisko died and all the colonists.” 

“Yes, but no one expects to be betrayed by a friendly.”

Kaidan gave a limp shrug. “Maybe we need to. Now.”

“Maybe.” Anderson stood and smoothed down his jacket. “Alenko, I like you. I’ve always thought you were an exceptional soldier. Just don’t forget to be something else once in a while. You’re moving past the Normandy. Good.” 

Anderson lifted Shepard’s plaque. Kaidan followed it with his eyes.

“Shepard would be proud of you.” Anderson smiled. “Pull out that medal sometimes and remember that. You’re not just making your parents proud, you’re making her memory proud.”

Kaidan throat closed. He only trusted himself enough for a sharp nod and stood.

“Next Christmas go see your family instead of interrogating red sand dealers on Omega.” Anderson put his hand out.

Kaidan gave a solid pump and enough eye contact to not come across shut off. Then he turned to the door.

“Thanks, sir,” he said to the floor.

“And, Alenko.” Anderson shoved Shepard’s plaque back in the bottom drawer. “You make me proud too. It’s not just the dead. That’s why you need to start living.”

Kaidan wandered the Presidium staring at his feet. The sky overhead dimmed. Skycars brightened into streaming lights above. Tree blossoms scented the air and somewhere in the darkness a fountain trickled. To another person, it would seem beautiful and serene. To him, after seeing the world in color, if felt muted and far away. Kaidan stopped next to a shallow pool. Footsteps drew his eyes. An asari mother strolled by hand in hand with a blue-skinned toddler. The girl smiled back at Kaidan dragging a stick along the pool, leaving a trail of ripples. 

Losing someone unexpectedly was said to be like missing a step. Jarring. Shocking. You trip. It had felt like missing more than a step. He had been sprinting up the staircase, leaping two steps at a time, eyes fixed on the light of an open doorway above. The staircase ended, cut away like a cliff. It never connected to the light at all. Instead of one step off balance, he was in a freefall. Sometimes he wondered when he would reach the bottom. As he stared at the soft ripples left by the child’s stick, a realization washed over him. Air expanded in his lungs. All this time he’d been waiting to hit bottom, maybe he’d already found his feet.

She’d always be with him. He had loved her. Never told her. When he closed his eyes, he could remember skimming the strap down her shoulder, trailing it with his lips. Her hair sliding between his fingers like silk. How she laughed and rolled her eyes when his fingertips traced her lips before kissing her. She’d known. He hoped she knew. Shore leave had never come. Days after the Citadel battle, they’d been dispatched to hunt geth, a throw away mission to shut down talk of Sovereign and the reapers. A throw away mission that changed everything, the end of the staircase. He regretted not saying the words, but he could have regretted more than that. One night, a heartbeat in the spectrum of space and time, but it meant everything. She’d known.

Kaidan’s reflection stared back at him. Roughed-up, crumpled, bleary-eyed. He smoothed his uniform, the only part of himself that looked clean and right. He hoped he did make her proud. If she could see his work the last two years, he hoped her only disappointment was not being there to do it with him. 

She was gone. Kaidan drew a deep breath and clenched his jaw against the blurring vision. Maybe it _ was _ time to move on, live again. He would destroy Cerberus. If that’s all he ever accomplished, it was something at least. For her. The reapers might not come for another hundred years, a thousand maybe. It was two years already since the Citadel attack and nothing. Silence. Perhaps Sovereign’s death was a setback strong enough to divert their plans. For eternal machines, there could be any timescale for regrouping. Cerberus, on the other hand, was real. An evil that was here and now, tearing apart families and murdering innocents, destroying lives as they destroyed a part of Shepard’s life. He’d see it through. For the past victims. For the future victims. For Shepard. But, maybe it wasn’t too much to start living at the same time.

Kaidan pulled up the contact list on his Omni-Tool. He didn’t have many close friends, but he knew people. They were friends of a sort, fellow marines or college classmates who lived on the Citadel. Shallow, good-times-type connections but still enjoyable. A group of his friends from basic had messaged him a month ago. He’d run into them in the Presidium outside the embassy. They harassed him. Told him he looked too serious and needed to go out with them for drinks sometime. 

Kaidan sent off the messages and dropped his hand. The glow from his Omni-Tool died away. Kaidan studied the glassy surface of the pool, breathing in the flowers, and listening to whish of traffic overhead. He turned away and started down the sidewalk toward home. His Omni-Tool pinged with a new message.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger tag: one brief mention of suicide

She was beautiful. Her skin was black and smooth like volcanic glass. Her hair was cornrowed in the same shade of onyx. She had white teeth, bleach-white, and her eyelashes were the longest he’d ever seen. They belonged on a llama. Kaidan choked on his beer. That wasn’t the most flattering thing to think about your date. Certainly not something to say aloud. Now he’d thought it, he was terrified he would say it. He hadn’t been on a date in years, but he knew this much: you don’t compare your date to a llama. He covered his choke with a throat clear and set his beer down. She really was beautiful.

Kaidan smiled and nodded. He remembered that part. Smile and nod. Better if you actually paid attention. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in biomedical limb regeneration or alien pathogens. For all the questions he was asking right now, it likely seemed the exact opposite. She knew what he did. She’d probably chosen the medical subtopics based off the military applications. Considerate. Another good point in her favor. Smart too. Couldn’t deny that. And not just in a brainy, medical school, bookworm way. She caught sardonic references, laughed at implied jokes, and added an insightful angle to conversation.

She was thoughtful steering the conversation from her own interests back to him now and again. Unnecessary though. He was tired of talking about himself -- his family, upbringing, military career. Even tech talk didn’t interest him enough to take the proffered mic. They talked a total of fifteen minutes about his life before his time on stage was maxed. She seemed to sense him deflecting further questions.

She tried for mutual topics then. Biotic ball. Though he sensed she was feigning interest more than genuinely eager to debate teams and record wins. Soon she’d turn to questioning him on the specifics of the game -- ask his opinions, give him a chance to teach her and puff himself up. It was a good tactic. One of his own tactics actually. Not necessarily in dating, but for dealing with anybody really. Show interest, establish a shared foundation, then transition into eager learner hungry for the other’s repository of knowledge. It flattered your companion’s expertise on a well-loved subject, created enthusiasm in the interaction, and reinforced security through the power shift. It promoted a quick, positive bond. It wasn’t manipulative. It was just being smart. Even thoughtful. She wanted him to have a good time. Be comfortable. And she was beautiful. She really was. Smart, beautiful, considerate, thoughtful. But not Shepard.

“First score wins, right?” She sipped her wine. “In overtime, I mean.”

“First to seven points or the leading score at the end of fifteen minutes.”

“Ah, right, right. Seven and fifteen.” She pursed her lips and squinted at the bar. “That seems higher than I remember.”

Kaidan played along. If she knew the abbreviated fan language of ‘seven and fifteen,’ she already knew the answer to her own question.

“Changed from ‘three and ten’ in ’83,” he said.

“Right. Vaguely remember that. A recent change for a game that’s five hundred years old.”

He didn’t need the question to know his line. “Th Human League complained. Argued the short cutoff made the winner arbitrary. It was the randomized possession for kick off in overtime that determined the winner instead of skill. Or, at least, we thought so.”

“Only a few decades in the game, we’re already complaining about the rules.” She flashed a smile, watching him under her eyelashes, and twisting her wine glass on the bar.

Kaidan grinned back. Genuinely even. “Yeah. I guess that’s our way. Politics and biotic ball.”

“True.” Her dimples showed. “Two minutes on the sidelines, and we’re shoving players off the court. ‘I got this. Over here! I’m open!’”

Kaidan laughed. Couldn’t help it. “Yeah, then we yank the whistle from the ref’s mouth and start throwing our own flags.”

“And a rulebook? We slap it out of their hands. We got it all up here.” She tapped her forehead.

It felt good to laugh. Good to be out. Good to be drinking beer, live music in the background, laughing with someone fun and light. His desk had Cerberus leads freshly skimmed from an Alliance database. There was a backlog of emails from Colony Security and C-Sec, the friends he’d strategically made over the last two years. “Sources” for a more dehumanizing label. He had those flagged messages from the public relay archives. He’d intercepted a message originating from Tigrus. Eight months he’d known of the Cerberus operation there. His lips were sealed though. Too many tidbits of information to intercept, and the base was innocuous enough – researching husks and animating the dead, no real end goal to it. A dead end. Kaidan grimaced at the pun. All of that could wait. Anderson, his friends, damn, even his parents and Kate were right. He needed this. He needed some time not chasing Cerberus leads or dressed in BDUs. 

“You ever play biotic ball?” she asked.

Kaidan’s back stiffened. She must have noticed the scar on the back of his neck. He was damn sure he hadn’t said anything. Better she knew now though.

“No. I never did,” he said slowly. 

He gripped his cool glass of beer, condensation mixing with the sweat of his palm. She watched him, the corner of her mouth tilted up, eyes quick and bright. His fingers tightened around the glass. A familiar taste rose like acid in his throat. The taste for self-sabotage. The last few years he’d done a lot of it. Didn’t even know why. Not on dates, but just life -- friendships, social outings, comm sessions that ran too long. It was undeniable. A desire to push the envelope, speak before he could call it back, throw himself over the edge to see where he landed. It worked. He had pushed people away. Recognizing the outcome and the frail reason behind it hadn’t quench the allure. It only gave it purpose. Words rose in his mouth now, something harsh or alarming. He hadn’t decided what. She spoke before he could blurt it out.

“Sorry.” She touched his wrist resting on the bar. “I didn’t mean to – My brother was a biotic. I should have waited until you brought it up.”

“Oh. It’s, uh … Yeah, it’s fine.” He forced a smile, didn’t pull his hand off the bar. The other words building in his throat crumbled away. His mind replayed her words catching on something. “Your brother … He _ was _ a biotic?”

Her posture tensed pulling her taller on the stool. She gave a tight smile and looked away. “I, uh … did I say – Well …”

“I’m sorry.” Kaidan leaned in closer.

“I, uh … no, that’s … it is what it is, right? Part of life,” she said vaguely and turned her stool to the counter.

“Yeah.” Kaidan leaned an elbow on the bar and studied her profile. “I’ve lost a lot of people close to me. Been years now for some of them. Still hurts like hell. You know, let’s just talk about biotic ball or turian prions again. Who doesn’t like a spirited prion debate, hmm?”

Her lips stretched into a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to dampen things. Damn. I’m a bad date, aren’t I?”

“You didn’t stand me up. That strong out the gate, what’s to worry about?”

She grinned sideways at him. “No one would stand you up.”

“Ha. Well, thanks. Go on a date once a year, it keeps the odds in my favor.”

“Once a year?” Her eyebrows raised. She rotated on her stool.

Heat flushed in his cheeks. “Well, I’m deployed a lot.”

She scrutinized him with a subtle up and down. It wasn’t quite clinical, but if she told him to say ‘ahh’ or give her his wrist for a pulse, he would have done it. Blood burned in his face. He’d given himself away saying anything. Now he was an oddity. She’d see him through a filter of presumed naivety and awkwardness. His dating history was the truth though. Once a year was more an average. If he told her it had been two years since being out, he wasn’t sure what she’d think. Brad and Tasha had warned him not to mention it when they urged him to approach her last week.

“I’ve been married twice,” she said suddenly.

The transition threw him a little. He reoriented and shrugged a shoulder. “Not married now, though, right?”

“Not married now,” she said.

Her eyes dropped to his lips. He shifted on the stool and drew his glass of beer closer.

“You ever been to a Sorcerer’s game?” he asked.

“Do you want to walk around a bit?” she asked already sliding off her stool. She flicked up her Omni-Tool screen and paid before he could process what she was doing. “Presidium’s nice this part of the night cycle.”

Kaidan stared at the foam in his glass, heart beating, music thrumming in his ears.

“Sure.” He stood up from the stool.

The cooler air of the Presidium was a welcome relief from the bar. The music and heat closed in around him before he reached the door. Outside, the sky had dimmed. Space with real starlight replaced the artificial blue skies and floating clouds of daytime. No breeze like the real outdoors, but some of it was real. Trees shed flower petals on the sidewalk, and real water trickled in the fountains. She turned on a pathway along the wall. Ivy hung above them from upper story balconies. A stream gurgled beside them, synthetic river rocks and machine-regulated water volume. 

“I like this park,” she said absently, eyes on the water as they walked, twisting and pulling her own fingers. Silence hung between them, then she blurted, “My brother died last year.”

“Military?” Kaidan asked. A lot of biotics were.

“No,” she snapped sharp and fast. Kaidan tucked his hands in his pockets with a frown. She looked sideways at him and her eyes softened with a sigh. “Sorry. That – that came out wrong. He, uh … He was a L2. Institutionalized. He never could have … He died of complications.”

Kaidan’s breath tightened. “Oh.”

“He committed suicide.”

Kaidan’s step faltered. She saw the stumble and twisted to face him. He stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s too, uh … personal. I just – it felt like ‘complications’ was lying. And I feel bad from earlier. Making you uncomfortable. I just … I guess I wanted you to know the truth.”

Kaidan chewed his lip. “You didn’t make me … I’m just sorry you felt you had to explain anything.”

“I …” She grappled for words then met his eyes. “I like you. Feel like I can trust you. I don’t know why, but it felt good to say. To tell someone. Tell you, I guess.”

Kaidan smiled weakly. He considered a moment then sighed. ‘I’m a L2.”

“You’re the right age, but I wasn’t sure.”

She didn’t need to ask the question. The hanging silence may as well have voiced it.

“I have headaches, but I’ve been lucky. I’m sorry about your brother. Truly.”

“I think you are.” 

Her smile dimmed though. She held his eyes, water trickling beside them, darkness deepened under the overgrowth of ivy. He’d said the wrong thing. The seriousness in her eyes. Then she stepped up, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. 

It happened so fast. There had been no premeditation. No weighing it out, agonizing the implications, wondering if he was ready. It was all taken from him with one swift step. Her lips brushed his at first, soft and peddle-like, then drew at him. Her fingers indented under his jaw. He’d thought of this moment. Thought of it for years, sometimes with fear, frustration, grief, other times with hope, curiosity, longing. Longing to move forward, but terrified it would be the moment he realized once and for all that he couldn’t. Moving on was for other people. Something in his protein made him different than every other mourner. The rhythm against his lips slowed, turning from tender and insistent to faltering and stiff. In a flash of rolling emotions and tangled thoughts, he realized he hadn’t kissed her back.

“Sorry,” she murmured. She bowed her head and stepped back.

Kaidan caught her elbow. “I’m sorry. I … I told you I lost friends. I lost someone who – she meant a lot to me. It was years ago, but sometimes I feel guilty. Guilty to move on. I know she’d want me to, but … Anyway, I was just surprised.”

She forced a smile. “That’s all right. I understand. Divorced three months, separated ten, and I still stared at the finalized document that first week. Even though we didn’t get along, it felt raw. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m sorry.”

“I like you.” Kaidan grabbed her hand. 

It had been a long time since feeling someone’s fingers between his, the warm press of a palm in his hand. So simple, but the blood surged in his veins. A step further or a leap beyond that … It made his breath tighten, head dizzy, fingers ache to brush down her throat. Kiss her. His knees locked. He drew in a sharp breath and swallowed the rage of hormones and racing thoughts. Too fast he wouldn’t make anything healthy of it. Worse yet, he’d use her. It was that fear that quickened his steps past the rowdy crowds outside clubs or sitting at the bar – a smile twisting his direction, a wink, head tilting to the empty stool. He wasn’t going to use someone as detergent to wash Shepard away. Kaidan kissed her cheek instead, lingering long enough to make it more than brotherly, then stepped back.

“I’m deploying on assignment,” he said. He squeezed her hand before dropping it. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Maybe something more substantial than … ‘_ drinks _?’” She lifted an eyebrow with a curling smile. She gave a light laugh and ducked her face. “Sorry. No expectations. I’d like to see you again too.”

Kaidan didn’t even try to stifle his grin. “Uh, yeah, maybe something more substantial.” Her lips had a perfect cupid’s bow, dark and full. He snapped his attention back to her eyes and added with a smirk, “I’ll find a bar with pretzels next time.”

“_ Pretzels _? Really?” Her smile widened. She looked him up and down. “My expectations are set.”

Blood flushed in his cheeks. Not at all what he’d meant. He laughed to diffuse the heat and kissed her check again. The steps back to his room had a lightness he hadn’t felt in a while. He sat at his desk. He flicked up a Cerberus report on the terminal, but he couldn’t help smiling. Some balance might actually be nice.


	6. Chapter 6

The longer the silence grew to Kaidan’s question, the more Kaidan realized Anderson wasn’t going to answer. The question wasn’t even worth a response apparently. The silence reminded Kaidan of talking with his friends after Alchera. Kaidan’s optimism of, “But what if she …” elicited the same look Anderson was giving him now. It was a look of pity. Pity for Kaidan’s naivety in latching onto the hope of Shepard being alive.

Anderson’s elcor assistant stood in the office doorway. “With frustration. I asked him to wait.”

“I imagine you did.” Anderson nodded at his assistant to leave, then focused back on Kaidan. “I’m glad you’re here, Commander. I was going to message you.”

Kaidan’s heartbeat spiked. Anderson was going to answer the question after all. Kaidan took a step further into his office. 

Anderson drew a datapad out of his desk. “Sit, sit.”

Kaidan barely knew how to work his feet, hanging onto Anderson’s every breath, straining to hear the words it was true. Kaidan still smelled the beer spilled on his civvies. Brad had cursed loud enough the whole room stopped to look. The room had already stopped for Kaidan. The television above the bar flickered with the grainy, lined photo from a security camera. Omega. A half-caught word from the television announcer had stopped Kaidan mid-sentence with Brad. He knocked over Brad’s beer swinging around to the screen. An ANN report and the snapshot of an armored woman was all that mattered in that moment. Kaidan scrambled up on his stool and squinted closer at the image before it flickered away. He forgot to pay. He just left, stumbling over a stool, and shoving through the crowd in the Presidium. 

“So, Alenko, I ran into a few of the Alliance brass yesterday. Let's talk biotics.” Anderson put his elbows on the desk. “When you and I were talking last time, you mentioned what you thought you could do with a biotic on your team. Have you ever taken that to the next level?”

“Next level?” Kaidan said numbly, heart slowing into a heavy thump-thump. 

Whatever Anderson said next was lost. It was a moving mouth and words from another language. A part of Kaidan died. Foolish to give into that spark of hope. His feet had pounded the hallway to Anderson’s office, his mind spinning with possibilities. A protection program maybe. Hiding or some covert op. Something. Anything for her to still be alive. Have it be true.

“Rear Admiral Cuthbert – his daughter’s a biotic,” Anderson continued, “he thought that was an interesting notion. First of its kind for humanity. And the Alliance.” 

Kaidan nodded. His answers were mechanical. His heart hemorrhaged in his chest, while his mind just tried to stay on topic. Of course she was gone. To think otherwise was regressing all five stages of grief. Joker saw her spaced. A rational person would have taken that as proof. Kaidan wanted a body. The hardsuit could have preserved her, but recovering it was a needle in a haystack. He didn’t blame the Alliance for it. Not really. Recovering survivors off the frozen wasteland of Alchera trumped finding one body orbiting the sky, burning up in the atmosphere, hardened with ice. 

He thought of her sometimes like that – eyes glassy and hollow, a fixed stare through a frost-crystalized vizor, still spinning and turning in space endlessly. All the while, he was here drinking beer with friends and getting pats on the back from Alliance brass. Perhaps she was still spinning through space, hardsuit brittle and frozen. A silver streak, rotating and catching the light as it spun and spun. Kaidan stood up.

Anderson frowned. “What are—”

“I need to go. I forgot something. I’m—I’m sorry. I’ll call you.” Kaidan rushed away, not even waiting for a reply. Only part of him had made it to the ground on Alchera. The rest was rotating out there with her, somewhere. He was starting to pick himself up, going out for drinks, maybe more. It was a good start. He’d feel whole again. One day. But that piece was never coming back.

The elcor assistant looked up from the desk. “With alarm and still simmering resentment. Excuse me –”

“No.” Kaidan waved a hand at him.

“With admonishment. You need to schedule next time. Here is the—”

The reception door slid closed behind him. Kaidan darted down the hall receiving bewildered frowns and angry whispers. He wasn’t even sure where he was going. Just not here. Each new breath felt sharper than the last, and his whole body throbbed. He had to get out of the crowd. 

He ran the last few steps to his door. The room he rented on the Citadel: cheap, no windows. The murkiness swallowed him up, air hot and stale, but he was glad to be out of the hall. He didn’t bother with the lights or thermostat. He fell into bed, didn’t even take off his boots. The ANN report reeled over and over in his head with the same fuzzy picture. He turned his face into the pillow. It stuck to his cheeks. It was two years later and his pillow was still wet with tears. Of course she was gone. She was a spinning fleck of space debris, part of himself frozen with her. Lost.

* * *

“You _ are _trained on it, aren’t you?” Major Conti’s face flickered on the terminal’s holoscreen. The comms had bad reception lately. 

Kaidan grit his teeth, bumping his legs under the desk as he straightened his back. The folding chair was damn uncomfortable. His whole body ached from lifting the towers’ battery cells, crawling under amplifiers, squeezing into odd positions to rework wiring. He hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours.

“I had a crash course on my way here,” Kaidan said. “Modules. Nothing applied. I need a team. Engineers.”

Major Conti folded her arms. “One engineer has been adequate for initializing these systems in the past.”

“It’s only been ‘initialized’ two other times.” Kaidan moderated his tone at the glint in her eye. “Sorry, Major, but you must admit this is a new system. It’s state of art. Medius and Baltic Prime are lucrative commercial ports. The engineers the Alliance sent to initialize those towers were part of the GARDIAN’s R&D. They had more resources than a backwater colony. Ma’am, if you’d give me one engineer …”

“You already have the one engineer needed, Commander.” Major Conti checked her Omni-Tool, probably the time, and refolded her arms. “I’m talking about you.”

“I’m not an engineer, ma'am.”

“Your file says otherwise. What did you graduate in again?”

“I’m a sentinel. An equipment engineer would have these towers running by now.”

“Yet, you wanted to be there. Went over my head to Admiral Yurick.”

“I got a tip.”

“A tip,” Major Conti repeated vaguely. “Right. These tips of yours, hunches or whatever. No one seems to question them, but to me, Commander, they smell pretty damn fishy. Begs the question how someone with no N Spec Ops designation or intelligence training knows so much about a terrorist organization.”

The implication made him frown. He was loyal to the Alliance. It was obvious. And his sources were far from the inside. Subcutaneous at best. 

“Please send me an engineer, ma’am,” Kaidan repeated.

“Horizon has engineers, don’t they?”

“Horizon didn’t ask for this defense system. The Alliance—”

“Who did ask for it then, hmm?” Major Conti sat forward and glared into the screen. “You go over my head again when I’ve said ‘no,’ I’ll find assignments for you the equivalent of picking up wrappers and pop cans on the side of the road. Your greed for rungs on the ladder will meet a ceiling.”

“All due respect, Major, I don’t report tips for rungs on the ladder. I am sorry about going to Admiral Yurick without telling you. Like I said before, though, she was visiting Councilor Anderson. We just ran into each other.”

“Huh. Right. I'll give you the benefit of doubt by saying Anderson planned it, not you, but it was planned. Don’t deny you talked to the councilor about the ‘tip’ I told you to drop.”

Kaidan held Major Conti’s gaze but didn’t say anything. 

“Thought so. You’ve been the councilor’s little protégé the last few months. That’s fine, but don’t tell me you’re not trying to slap stars on your collar. Brass finds out you’re integrating with Cerberus, the Council and Alliance might not pump your hand so hard, Alenko.”

“There’s going to be an attack here, Major. We need the towers operational. I don’t have soldiers with me to defend these people.”

“Yes, yes.” Major Conti cocked her head with a smirk. “You say the attacks aren’t Cerberus. Your spiritual connection to the Netherworld just tells you Horizon is next. Funny how you know Cerberus so deeply, but then this tidbit? Nothing to do with them.”

“I didn’t say that, ma'am.” Kaidan stood. He leaned forward on his palms and looked into the screen. “I said it’s not Cerberus’s MO. Doesn’t mean they haven’t developed new technology or stepped up their game. But even you have to admit, Major, it doesn’t make sense. Thousands of people, young and old, entire colonies – gone. No distress calls, the colony just goes black and nothing’s left. Dinner still on the table, dogs tied in the yards, tractors turning their wheels against the side of a barn. Cerberus never took the young, old, or handicapped. They’re useless. They leave them anesthetized. Slavers don’t take them either. They kill them, leave the bodies. Neither Cerberus nor slavers have managed to black out an entire colony, no distress calls and strike that hard and fast. Cerberus has taken a couple hundred at one time at most. Tiny colonies or outposts. To jump up to ten thousand from two hundred? No. That’s why I say something bigger is going on. It could be Cerberus. I don’t know.”

“Well, if your tip turns out – as they usually do I’m told – you’ll be finding out.”

“What comfort’s that to all the colonists here? Their families? And, I’m not reporting back if I’m dead or taken.”

“Something you may have considered when requesting to be sent.”

“If you hadn’t denied my request for soldiers, engineers, and backup we might get a real answer.”

“Your friend Admiral Yurick and Councilor Anderson got you a multimillion-credit defense system, didn’t they? Pulled the strings to get you to Horizon in an official capacity. Don’t whine to me about not getting your army. You’ve gotten enough handouts.”

“Major, if –”

The power went out. Kaidan turned around in the darkness. Even the comm on his Omni-Tool was dead. Comms didn’t go out with the power. It would take something big to take both offline. Kaidan grabbed his rifle leaning against the wall and took the stairs two at a time. His lodging was an older building used for seed storage and seasonal equipment. Kaidan tripped around the balers and tractors and pulled open the outside door. Flashlight beams swung around the habitat. Doors opened.

“Commander Alenko.” 

Kaidan turned to a woman’s voice. Lilith. A lantern swung on her arm. She repeatedly pressed keys on her Omni-Tool.

“Communication is down,” she said. “I think most of the colony’s asleep. I was talking with my sister.”

“It’s all right.” Kaidan touched her arm and passed around her. “Get your engineers up. We need to figure this out.”

“I’ll get them around,” she said.

Walkway lamps ran on emergency power. Kaidan followed the dim light to the colony’s power station. The satellite tower for directing comm traffic was right next to it. Emergency generators hummed in the distance. The dry heat was already making him sweat. The stench of livestock and chemical fertilizer wasn’t helping the sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Black out: step one. They weren’t ready.

The power station’s hatch was already thrown open, but no one was inside. Kaidan shined his Omni-Tool light up the outside of the building. From what he could see from the ground, there wasn’t any physical damage to the building. The satellite tower looked properly aligned with all the cables connected. 

“Hey, Alliance.” An Omni-Tool light came around the corner of the building. 

Kaidan jaw clenched. “Delan.”

“Don’t mess with my stuff in there. Your damn gun towers took down our network.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Never had a problem before. Now, you and your spy tech’s here. Simple conclusion.”

“I agree. That conclusion is simple.” Kaidan pushed around him and shined his light inside the power building. “Were you working in here when it went down? You see anything?”

“No, the power went out. Means it was dark.”

“You’re good at your simple conclusion.” Kaidan swung around to the footsteps coming down the path. “Lilith, good. The engineers are coming? I need help calibrating the aiming matrix on those defense towers.”

“Defense towers!” Delan gaped at Kaidan. He turned to Lilith. “We got the comm’s down.”

“Hey.” Kaidan stepped closer to him. Colonies didn’t last twenty-four hours after they went black. Help wouldn’t reach them in time. “Listen, both of you, this – the power, the comms going out – that’s why you need those defense towers operational. Right now, that defense system is a helluva lot more important than getting the lights back on or the comms up.”

Lilith’s brow furrowed. “You can talk to the engineers. I don’t know if they’ll agree.

They didn’t. The colony’s engineers showed up one at a time. Half dressed, bleary eyed, stifling yawns, they buzzed around the power station. A few stood at the base of the satellite comm-relay talking in quiet voices and motioning up at it. Kaidan’s words weren’t making any difference. 

Lilith patted his arm. “Maybe if you told us why these defense towers are so important. Something we should be worried about?”

“Would I want the defense towers online first, if there wasn’t?” Kaidan turned to her. “You need to convince them.”

“I’ll talk to them, but …”

“Yeah, ‘but’ …’” Kaidan wiped the sweat off his forehead. His eyes drifted to a picnic table several meters off. The colony had a lot of families. “I’m going to work on the defense towers. Send anyone my way who will listen.”

Lilith snagged his arm. “You don’t look good, Commander. Rest for a bit. I’ll wrangle anyone I can to help with the defense towers.”

“Thanks, but we can’t lose any more time. I’ll be at the central control tower.”

Kaidan turned down a row of equipment sheds toward the habitat’s center. Part of him wondered if Delan was right. Kaidan’s presence here was useless. Shepard would have gotten the towers up by now. Not by her technical skills – she didn’t have any – but by rallying the colonists and moving the Alliance with her magnetism. She’d devise some clever solution he’d never see. She would have prevented the black out from even happening. Now, they stood on the brink of something Kaidan couldn’t defend them against. Something unknown.

* * *

Kaidan stopped at the tower’s control station. The colony was eerie without the power, everyone either asleep or mobbing the power station on the edge of town. He reached for the main panel and stopped. He didn’t know where to begin. He’d beaten himself against this control panel for hours, maybe enough hours to be called days. He needed an epiphany, but he felt inert, not even sure where to pick up and start again. Retry what he’d already tried? Was there an approach he hadn’t thought of before? Maybe there was a section of the manual he’d understand on the sixth readthrough that he hadn’t on the fifth. 

He dropped into the dirt, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared at the control tower. Think. Think. All he could think was – Shepard would have found a way. He was going to lose all these people, because she was gone and he was here instead.

That day with Anderson, leaving Brad to cover his tab at the bar, pillowcase sticking to his eyelids all night – it still hung over him. Embarrassing that his first response had been a flash of hope, this desperate yearning. Only later could he realize how pitiful it all was. Shepard would have contacted him. Even in hiding, even part of some covert operation, she would have found a way to let him know. A sign she was alive. They’d had something together. Unless he’d misread it. 

The night before Illos had felt so real though. He already loved her by then, knew it, but everything that night drove the splinter deeper. He’d felt something from her too. But even beyond their romantic connection, they were friends. Close friends. Best friends even, from his side. He supported her professionally and personally. No, she would have found a way to let him know. She always found a way. That truth alone should have settled any mad hope, but then he’d heard about Cerberus. 

Shepard working for Cerberus? The idea was more unfathomable than her returning from the dead. She’d never work for them. The rumor on ANN, in the Citadel hallways, on the extranet – it grated on him more than any of the other false rumors about her. He’d heard cruel, lewd, self-serving claims over the years -- individuals and organizations, supposed friends, lovers, and rivals. But nothing rankled him as much as hearing she’d go over to a coalition contrary to everything she championed in life. An organization that treated colonists no better than the slavers who brutalized her family. Cerberus was the one now that tore little girls’ childhoods from them and left them alone. Cerberus murdered Shepard’s comrades on Akuze, tried to kill her, left her an only survivor a second time. Senseless. Depraved. Some days, he was glad she wasn’t here to see what he’d seen in their bases' laboratories – people butchered for experiments and left for dead on lab tables, mutilated body parts without an owner, records of cold and inhumane – He shouldn’t think about it. Kaidan pulled in a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes. 

He wanted to throw his glass at the TV every time he heard the lie. She wasn’t like that. Cerberus was destroying her image, her lifework, the calling she’d left behind. The only bright side of her death was the attention it shined on what she stood for. Cerberus meant to take even that away by smearing her name with their hate and violence. If he despised Cerberus before, he detested them now. She was dying all over again.

He dropped his forehead into the crook of his arm. He listened to the click of midnight beetles and the breeze stirring the brittle grass. He went over the GARDIAN manual in his head, circuit connections and software programing. He thought through the troubleshooting steps he’d already tried. He tried to remember the tricks that worked with tech problems in the past. The Alliance engineers he’d consulted over comm the morning before hadn’t been that helpful. They couldn’t see it to know. All their tips and tricks had done nothing. Still, he went over their advice in his head. His insides curled into a ball. He just needed to calm down. Thinking of Shepard wasn’t helping.

In the end, it didn’t matter what lies Cerberus told about her. He reassured himself with these words over and over, let it cool his blood and slow the clapping of his heart. He knew who she was, even if the galaxy forgot, even if Cerberus buried her name so deep in filth it couldn’t shine through. He knew. That’s why he was here. It was why he woke every day and did his job with any feeling, why he hadn’t shut himself off. It would have been easier to shut it off, but he forced himself the other direction. 

Her passion was his passion. He wouldn't let what she cared about die with her. As long as he remembered her and drew on what she meant, her life and death weren’t for nothing. He’d see it through like she would have. See it through until it was _ his _ day. His day when metal exploded around him and the blackness of space stretched in to claim him. He would hope when the light faded away that in some small way, he made it worth it. 

He lifted his face to the top of the GARDIAN defense tower, outlined by starlight and generator-powered lamps. If Shepard could find a way, then he’d damn sure throw everything he had at it too. He brought the manual up on his Omni-Tool and opened it to page one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Time stopped. Every heartbeat stretched an eternity. The world fell out of focus, a suspended blur, while his stomach rolled with sickness and excitement. She was alive. She was the only thing in focus. The only thing that mattered. He would have known her face if he was blind. Known the sound of her voice if he was deaf. The same gait, same hand motions, same crisp whipcrack to her words. It was a euphoric nightmare, like a dream of drowning. Not knowing up from down, which way to swim for the surface. Breathing water instead of air.

Delan was giving her a hard time. Kaidan's knees locked against him. He felt more paralyzed than he had fifteen minutes ago. The exchange of words hummed in his ears, detached and far away. He couldn't breathe or move. The next moment, he was walking. Walking too far. His steps outpaced his head, and he rounded the turret’s power coupler. Delan didn’t know who the hell he was even talking to. But Kaidan did.

“Shepard?” Delan said fixed on her. “I remember that name. Sure. You’re some big Alliance hero.”

It tumbled out of Kaidan in a string like the often-repeated answer to a test question. “Commander Shepard. Captain of the Normandy. First human Spectre. Savior of the Citadel.” Kaidan turned his eyes to Delan. “You’re in the presence of a legend, Delan. And a ghost.”

The person who had haunted him for two years, now with flesh and breath. Shepard met his eyes. His heartbeat, already stretched with time, stilled in his throat. Delan said something. Kaidan didn’t care. She didn’t respond, lips parted, and eyes wandering over Kaidan’s face. She drew him in like a deep breath. He stepped to her. 

There were scars, but it was her face. A face he’d only seen in print or memory for two years. She gazed back at him, eyes sharp and reading. The hair rose up the back of his neck. He’d forgotten that look. How it felt. Two years, but how had he forgotten this feeling of electricity streaking down to his toes? The feeling of being exposed and read like an X-ray. The feeling of suddenly remembering the way home.

He pulled her to his chest. _ This _ was his fantasy. He’d fantasized about it more than a fourteen-year-old boy with unmonitored extranet access. And the fantasy was just this -- holding her one minute more, smelling her hair, and crushing her to his chest. Only, there wouldn’t be armor in the way. And he would smell _ her _ instead of smoke, dust, and dried blood.

“I thought you were dead, Shepard. We all did.” He stepped back.

The corners of her lips curved up. “It’s been too long, Kaidan. How you been?”

The ground dropped away. Her words echoed in his head. They reminded him of a civilian transport he’d taken from Earth. The Normandy wasn’t six months in her grave on Alchera. Just before the transport docked on Arcturus, a fire ignited in the back. Damage from space debris or faulty wiring, Kaidan never found out. Passengers screamed, shoving into the aisles, stampeding and tripping over each other to reach the front. Kaidan rolled the duffle bag off his lap, leaped rows of seats, and pushed people out of the way. There was a fire extinguished between the back seats. He pulled the pin, aimed, and sprayed the contents onto the flames. And just for a second – sirens wailing, lights strobing, his skin blistering from the heat – he was on the Normandy again. 

By the time the fire extinguisher was exhausted, Kaidan’s hands were trembling. He dropped it clanging to the floor, eyes stinging from the smoke, stomach rolling up his throat. He couldn’t stop shaking. Then the transport clicked into place on the dock. A synthetic voice came overhead: “_ We have now arrived at Arcturus Station, Dock 70B. Thank you for choosing Blue Star. We hope you enjoyed your trip.” _ Kaidan threw up. In the background, the VI reminded the passengers to collect their personal belongings and reiterated the extranet address to fill out a survey. 

Repeating Shepard’s words over and over in his head right now – the first words she’d spoken to him in two years – he heard the transport’s synthesized voice. The perky monotone asking about a survey, while he shivered on hands and knees staring down at his own vomit. _ It’s been too long, Kaidan. How’ve you been? _ It ignited something.

“Is that all you have to say? You show up after two years and act like nothing’s happened?” Her flat returned gaze was only dry grass. All this time, he thought there were things left unsaid on her side, like his. Two years. Two years and there wasn't anything serious to say? And she was alive, alive all this time. He hadn’t even been worth a good bye. Hadn't been worth contacting for two years? It poured out before he could stop it. He’d spent too long regretting the things he hadn’t said to start regretting the things he could say. “I thought we had something, Shepard. Something real. I loved you. Thinking you were dead tore me apart. How could you put me through that? Why didn’t you contact me? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?”

Shepard licked her lips and glanced around them. “I’m sorry, Kaidan. I was clinically dead. It took two years to bring me back. So much time has passed. You’ve moved on. I don’t want to open old wounds.”

It was a knife in his chest. His mind fumbled with her words. Two years dead and brought back? That wasn’t the bleeding in his chest though. He was trying to explain to her the agony he'd felt the last two years. He told her he’d loved her. She didn't even acknowledge it, just dismissed it with her own assessment. _ You've moved on. _ The hell she knew. Like she knew how he felt more than he knew himself. _ I don’t want to open old wounds _ . As if they’d ever healed. She acted like he was melodramatic, childish, or just socially tasteless mentioning the pain. _ So much time has passed _. So much time had passed, he should be over it? Be an adult. The more the words turned in his head, the more the knife twisted in his gut.

“I did move on. At least, I thought I did,” he said weakly. She didn’t want to talk about the past -- it was inconsequential, a tired topic, and he was just working himself up? Then fine. Business. The world came back into sharp lines and moving pieces. Dry grass scratched his legs, the air stank of cow crap, and the stirred dust irritated his throat. He’d say it plain. “We’ve got reports of you and Cerberus.”

“Reports? You mean, you already knew?” A familiar voice. Garrus. 

Kaidan clenched his jaw. Kaidan hadn’t even noticed him. Garrus was here with Shepard, by her side. She’d contacted Garrus then, but she hadn’t contacted him. He dragged his eyes back to Shepard, air tightening in his lungs.

“Alliance intel thought Cerberus may be behind the missing human colonies,” Kaidan said. “I got a tip this colony might be the next one to get hit. Anderson stonewalled me, but there were rumors you weren’t dead. That you were working for the enemy.”

Shepard held up a hand as if physically stopping his train of thought. “Cerberus and I want the same thing. To save our colonies. It doesn’t mean I answer to them.”

She _ was _ in league with them. It was like hearing a shotgun. You look down and see red spreading from your chest. Only then, you feel it. Her words echoed in his ears, the admission she was with them. Then he felt it.

A haughty brunette narrowed her eyes at him from over Shepard’s shoulder, the Cerberus crest displayed openly and proud on her chest. An operative. A handler maybe. Shepard’s reinforced Galanix armor, that Hurricane VII pistol in her hand, an advanced power magnifying mod judging off the shots he heard – expensive stuff for someone whose assets were liquidated and donated to charity two years ago. Way beyond his Alliance paygrade. Garrus’s gear too – cutting edge, upgraded, polished and modded.

For the first time, Kaidan noticed the glow in her skin, below the hollow of her throat. Cybernetics under the skin. Even her eyes as he studied her now had something mechanical deep inside. It caught the light returning a faint glow. Hard to see in the sunlight. 

How had she gotten to Horizon? A Cerberus vessel must be in orbit No one had been alerted to the attack. It had only been a few hours since the attack started. She’d known ahead of time then. Cerberus knew ahead of time. They hadn’t alerted the Alliance, only come themselves, alone.

_ It doesn’t mean I answer to them. _ If an organization owned every resources – armor, weapons, ship, intel, manpower, and back up support – they owned you. You became answerable to them. How could you not be? If everything can be taken away and leave someone with nothing, then consciously or unconsciously acknowledged, there was control and influence. She could tell herself there's a gray area. It might make her feel better, but not him. That sort of delusion was a useful arrangement for her and Cerberus. She could find the peace of mind to do her job, while Cerberus held the button for her shock collar behind their back. They could both pretend it wasn’t there and that she really could wander out of the yard.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Kaidan asked. “Or is that just what Cerberus wants you to think? I wanted to believe the rumors you were alive, but I never expected anything like this.” 

Maybe the person in front of him wasn't even her. The Shepard he knew would never work for them. Cerberus murdered Alliance soldiers, diverted intel critical to galactic security, infiltrated and sabotaged military projects. Shepard wouldn’t sell herself for flashy equipment on a terrorist’s promise of good behavior. Her gaze was hollow, flat, calculating. If it was her, she wasn’t anyone he knew anymore.

“You turned your back on everything you believed,” Kaidan said. “You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed me.”

“Kaidan, you know me. You know I’d only do this for the right reason. You saw it yourself. The Collectors are targeting human colonies, and they’re working with the reapers.”

The reapers. Kaidan’s blood slowed. That could explain it. The only reason he could fathom her ever working for Cerberus was the ultimate threat, the reapers. Days, months, and then years had passed with nothing. He’d been branded a doomsayer by the Council and Alliance. 

If the reapers were back, it changed everything. Those creatures that attacked the colony were ‘Collectors’ she said. If the reapers were back, why not attack by themselves? Why this new intermediary? The geth should be here if the reapers needed foot soldiers. It didn’t make sense. Suddenly an unknown organic race appears, and supposedly they were in league with the reapers after two years of silence. 

Meanwhile, Cerberus was building an army and needed bodies to do it. Fact. They brought Shepard back for a reason. Fact. Everyone knew Shepard’s tenacity in stopping the reapers. Maybe she really did believe she was fighting the reapers, but taking a liar’s word was risky. What better way for Cerberus to direct her as a weapon than tell her she was being aimed at the reapers? The artifact he found at the Cerberus lab had used his own desire to stop the reapers to appeal to him. Control him. Indoctrinate him. He would have believed he was doing good, fighting the return of the reapers, and all the while furthering their agenda. Who knew how many he could have infected with indoctrination trying to prevent that very thing.

Cerberus had directed Shepard to chase these Collectors away, apparently, but maybe that was a show. A show for him. He knew Shepard from before. His opinion would carry weight when he returned to the Council and Alliance. He could verify it really was her, encourage their trust, even tell them of the hero she still is for humanity. Perhaps Shepard was even in the dark herself. She really thought she was running off reaper collaborators rather than being the lead role in a Cerberus play. She was falling into step with their plan to use her face for God knows what.

“I want to believe you, Shepard, but I don’t trust Cerberus. They could be using the threat of a reaper to manipulate you. What if they’re behind it? What if they’re working with the Collectors?” It made more sense. It made the most sense. Shepard was a smart person.

“Dammit, Kaidan,” Garrus said. “You’re so focused on Cerberus, you’re ignoring the real threat.”

Even Garrus believed it then. Kaidan paused. But, of course, Garrus would believe it. They were drinking the same Kool Aid from a Cerberus pitcher. Garrus had joined an anti-alien terrorist group. He could only be there for Shepard’s sake, for backup and support, but even he was taking Cerberus’s word on these claims. A chill prickled down Kaidan’s spine. Benezia joined Saren to pull him from the edge, redeem him, and talk sense to him. They both ended up indoctrinated puppets. 

Saren hadn’t even realized he was indoctrinated. Virmire. Kaidan could still taste the memory when he closed his eyes. Shepard’s voice ringing in his ears, shouting over the base’s alarms, shouting at Saren. Saren’s shadow had floated over the muddy water as Kaidan’s vision went in and out, red deepening the water around him, the medigel button blinking on his Omni-Tool. Max reached. He had felt the world slipping away, still groping for his pistol in the murky water, the bomb counting down at his back. Shepard told Saren he was being manipulated by Sovereign, but Saren denied it, argued against it. He couldn’t see it himself. He said Sovereign needed him to stay himself with free will to do all the things Sovereign planned. On the Citadel, again, Saren denied being influenced by Sovereign. It took coming to the end and Shepard's words to finally see the undeniable. Then he killed himself.

Shepard caught his eye. “You’re letting how you feel about their history get in the way of the facts.”

“Maybe,” Kaidan allowed. “Or maybe you’re the one who’s not thinking straight. You’ve changed, but I still know where my loyalties lie. I’m an Alliance soldier. Always will be.” There was nothing more to say. He turned away with a lead heart.

“I could use somebody like you on my crew, Kaidan. It will be just like old times.”

He stopped. She hadn’t heard a thing he said. His words were as effective as hers to Saren on Virmire. Kaidan would never go over to the side of terrorists, racists, people who killed the men and women he fought beside. 

And the Shepard he remembered would never want him to abandon his post, ruin his career by going deserting and throwing in with terrorists. And proper channels would never give him leave. They’d suspect right away if he asked. Hell, if he was denied shore leave and he just left, breached his contract, he’d face court martial and prison for desertion. Maybe worse charges for defecting to Cerberus, an Alliance enemy, even if he joined while on leave in his personal time. ‘_ It didn’t mean I answered to them’ _ wasn’t going to sway a military tribunal. Shepard was asking him to leave the Alliance forever. 

She was only asking now after he started walking away. She knew she had failed to convinced him with her story. She didn’t want him reporting his findings and speaking out against her identity or her assertions. 

_ What _ she was asking, _ why _ she asking, none of it stung as much as _ how _ she was asking. Perhaps another line of persuasion, he may have been tempted. But old times? Like he was a nostalgic trinket to fill out a collection. She acknowledged nothing beyond him being a useful crew member to her. He could join and pretend it was the good ole days. _ So much time has passed. You’ve moved on. I don’t want to open old wounds. _ His chest ached. _ I could use someone like you on my crew, Kaidan. It will be just like old times. _ Was there was no other reason? 

For him, it had been everything else. It was the only reason he would join her. He told her he loved her, how it tore him apart when she died. She told him to move on and not reopen old wounds. Kaidan glanced at Garrus. Kaidan could imagine the cost of trying to redeem her. Benezia hadn’t managed it. Shepard wasn’t listening to Kaidan now, she wouldn’t listen later. There was only Cerberus and the gray space she made for herself. She wanted a good soldier and a familiar face from him, nothing more. He wasn’t sure what cut deeper, Shepard forgetting herself or just forgetting him. _ Just like old times? _He answered while still turning to her.

“No, it won’t. I’ll never work for Cerberus.” He had regretted never being able to tell Shepard goodbye, tell her he loved her, how much she had meant in his life. Now he’d told her, it tasted like blood in his mouth. There was no closure with goodbye when everything had been a lie. “Goodbye, Shepard, and be careful.”

He walked away. Halfway across the colony, his steps faltered. The adrenaline carrying him fizzled away. His breathing hitched. Shepard. He spun around and tore across the colony until he reached the tower. Her ship was already gone.

* * *

“She called these creatures Collectors?” The asari councilor’s hologram wavered. Tevos gripped the edge of the lectern, the salarian and turian councilors flanking her. It was hard to hear over the skycars whizzing past the open balcony in Anderson’s office.

“Yes. Collectors,” Kaidan said, hands clasped behind his back.

Anderson angled himself to face the council, but his eyes were locked on Kaidan’s profile. Kaidan kept his back straight, focused on the three holograms in front of him.

“And it was Shepard?” asked Sparatus, the turian councilor.

Kaidan's fingers interlocked tighter behind his back. “I was told you’ve talked with her, Councilors. Reinstated her Spectre status.”

“We did,” said Valern, the salarian councilor. His bulbous eyes shifted to Anderson. “The human councilor verified her identity. He served with her.”

“You’ve served with her too,” Sparatus pressed. “Do you believe it’s really her?”

Kaidan’s mouth went dry. “Looked like her. Same voice. Bearing.”

“And?” Sparatus sighed.

“I submitted my report to the Alliance. With their permission, I will forward the Council my findings. The facts. What she told me. What I saw. I’m not verifying her story or her identity. You decide.”

Sparatus leaned back from the lectern, mandibles clicking. He didn’t say anything further.

“Anything else, Councilors?” Anderson pivoted and looked each in the eye.

“Thank you, Commander Alenko.” Tevos inclined her head. “Your information once again is appreciated.”

Valern bobbed his head. “Alliance cooperation with the Council has been surprisingly forthcoming. Excellent work, Councilor Anderson.”

“Commander Alenko’s the one to thank. It’s been his prerogative keeping the Council involved.”

“Indeed.” Tevos’s eyes weighed on Kaidan. “Until we have more information we can only speculate on these attacks on the human colonies. What it means. The nature of these creatures. Let’s adjourn.”

The three holograms faded to black. Kaidan turned on his heels and shot toward the door.

“Alenko,” Anderson said sharply. “Where are you going?”

“When Alliance approval comes through you’ll be the first with my report.” Kaidan glanced back over his shoulder. Anderson wasn’t his superior officer, and he wasn’t Alliance military. Kaidan didn’t need a dismissal to leave his office. Kaidan pressed the button for the door.

“Come back here, Kaidan,” Anderson said with a drawn-out sigh.

Kaidan waited for the doors to widen and squeezed through.

“Want to know why I didn’t tell you?” Anderson asked.

Kaidan paused mid-step. He twisted around.

“I thought so.” Anderson strolled to the balcony railing. 

Kaidan glanced around the reception area. The elcor assistant turned to Kaidan, but Kaidan hedged back to the doorway. He took one step into Anderson’s office and crossed his arms. He let the door close behind him. Across the room, Anderson had his back to Kaidan as he watched the skycar traffic, hands resting on the railing.

“Come over here, Commander.” Anderson glanced back at him.

Kaidan trudged forward a few more steps but stopped at the balcony stairs. He waited.

“Do you think it was her?” Anderson asked. “The facts are in your report, I know. Between you and me, though, was it her?”

“You tell me. You verified her for the Council. Met with her.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Anderson jerked to face him. “I’m not Captain Anderson to you, but I am someone you don’t want to piss off. I’m more than a little surprised at this attitude from you.”

The knot between Kaidan’s shoulders melted. “I’m sorry, sir. You’re right.”

“Come up here, Kaidan.” Anderson waved him to the railing.

Kaidan took stiff steps up to the balcony and stopped next to Anderson.

“I know you’re angry with me. I think that’s obvious. I’ll tell you why I didn’t say anything to you. It’s the same reason I didn’t answer her when she asked about you.”

“Shepard asked about me?” Kaidan’s heart jumped with a wild pulse. She asked about him. 

A shadow fell over him. If she truly wanted to contact him, his email and comm number were the same as two years ago. The same as twelve years before that. An Alliance email, as long as the name wasn’t common, was easy to work out. It didn’t require memory to contact him. Kaidan’s pulse slowed. 

“She did.” Anderson studied him a second. “You and the Commander seem closer than I realized.”

“I would have followed her to hell and back. I believed in her mission. Now she works for Cerberus.” 

It was easier to believe it wasn’t her than her choosing to stay with Cerberus. If it wasn't her, though, that had its own pain. 

“I verified Shepard’s identity for the Council.” Anderson gripped the rail with both hands and bowed his head. “I have … doubts. Concerns. I’m biased. I want it to be her. Maybe that’s why I can see it in her, the old Shepard I knew.”

“I want it to be her too,” Kaidan said. “For me, for humanity, for the galaxy. The reapers, if they’re coming like she says, we need her. The Alliance really won’t support her?”

“You’ve seen their attitude toward the reapers. Fingers in their ears, humming.”

“They turned her away when she asked to investigate these things, the Collectors? The Council turned her away too?”

“Spectres don’t get resources from the Council. You know that, Alenko.”

“There had to be another way. If she didn’t give up on the Alliance but challenged it. She always pushed, stuck with it, saw it through with sheer force. There has to be a better way than working with the enemy.”

“She doesn’t realize they’re the enemy.”

“That’s bull.” Kaidan ground his jaw and faced the Presidium. “She saw the same things I did on the Normandy. They experimented on her regiment. She knows what they are capable of. Maybe they’re showing her a new leaf, but Shepard’s not naïve. The other hand can still deal under the table. Cerberus is planning something, and not just against the reapers.” Light reflected across the Presidium lake below. Kaidan watched it in silence then turned his head to Anderson. “You really think they brought her back from the dead?”

Anderson met his eyes. “I have to think she’s telling the truth. I don’t know how.”

“The reapers reanimate the dead. Cerberus studies their technology, including indoctrination and mind control. A project that took billions of credits, medical advances leaping forward millennia, and two years of resources – you can’t tell me the Illusive Man wouldn’t have insurance on that sort of investment.”

“I agree,” Anderson said. “That’s why I wanted you to see her unbiased. I was tight lipped with her too. I didn’t want her preparing to mislead you. The meeting needed to be outside my influence. From what you’re saying, I imagine it didn’t go well.”

“No, it didn’t,” Kaidan said. He pushed back from the railing and crossed his arms. “I spent two years finishing something I thought mattered to both of us. Thought she’d be proud of. But now the person I thought I was fighting _ for _ is the person I’m fighting _ against _. She’s one of them. And, she never contacted me. Garrus, you, others, but not me.” He’d misjudged everything. 

“Alenko.” Anderson clasped his shoulder. “Don’t take this all so personally. Your CO, even a good CO like Shepard, doesn’t measure the worth of a soldier. Be your own man. You weren’t finishing Shepard’s lifework, you’re making your own.”

Two years. Two years lying to himself, grasping for meaning in all the loss, telling himself he meant something to her, that they shared a common goal. 

Anderson squeezed his shoulder. “A shock to see her again, I know. Me too. She’s like my own kid in some ways. I always saw so much in her.”

“She gave up on the Alliance and us,” Kaidan said. “Enough pressure, we could have found the resources somewhere. Helped her.” The fancy armor and sleek weapon mods made his stomach turn. “Maybe Cerberus bid a higher price though.”

“Perhaps the Alliance could have been made to see it. In time. We don’t have time.”

“We’ll never know, will we?” Kaidan backed away. “She took the easy way. Gave up on everything that mattered. That’s not the Shepard I remember. Not the Shepard I … looked up to.”

“She’s always gotten her hands dirty.”

“Dirty maybe. This time it’s blood.” Kaidan trotted down the balcony stairs. “The ends don’t justify the means. What’s winning if you sacrifice what you’re trying to save?”

He strode out the office door before Anderson could say another word. He sat on a bench by the Presidium lake for an hour watching the fountain. Whether it was her or not, he had lost her. He'd wasted two years and now the path forward was murky. Despite everything, he couldn’t put his heart into fighting Cerberus when it meant fighting her. He was at the beginning of the end again -- Alchera spinning in the window, the Normandy exploding across the stars, and the pit of his stomach filling with lead. Lost for a second time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Six months Later**

Shepard bolted upright on the couch and snapped down her Omni-Tool screen. The photos disappeared. 

“How long have you been there?” She looked over the back cushions at the doorway.

James shrugged. “Didn’t mean to scare you or nothing.”

“You didn’t. Just didn’t realize you – Did you need something?”

“Uh. No.” James moved deeper into the glass living space. “Sitting outside in a chair’s exciting and all, but I thought I’d kick around here a bit. Check in on you.”

“Still here. Just stashed my knotted-sheet rope.” She slouched into the couch.

“Huh. Looked like you were strolling down Memory Lane to me.”

“Very bucolic.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever that means.” James chuckled shifting on his feet. His voice had an edgy, weak quality to it. He was still intimidated by her. Nervous. 

Shepard folded her arms behind her head. “A friend said that to me once. I laughed and bobbed my head. Then I ducked around a corner and looked it up.”

“Have a friend who likes big words, huh?”

“Had,” Shepard said. Her stomach soured, and she swung her legs off the couch. Enough of this. She bounced to her feet. “Get your headband and do a few stretches. I want a run.”

“You looked outside? It’s pouring.”

“I’m not made of sugar, and I’m not the Wicked Witch. I’ll chance it.” Shepard paused when James didn’t move. “Oh, come on, Vega. This is my metaphorical wagging of the tail, leash in my mouth, spinning in circles. I’m cooped up. You don’t want to tell the brass I caught cabin fever on your watch.”

“What about catching a real fever exercising in the rain.”

“Old wives’ tale. Let’s go.”

“You don’t need to change or nothing?”

“I’m ready now. Stop stalling.”

James shook his head with a tight laugh, but he walked to the door. He scanned his Omni-Tool. “Where we running? The higher ups aren’t gonna be happy we go off HQ property.”

“We could leave a paper mâché head tucked under a blanket and a snore track. Buy a few hours before the search.” Shepard passed him.

“Need it for me too then. Though, I guess sleeping on duty ain’t much better than being AWOL.”

“There’s a difference. One gets the firing squad, the other just a slap upside the head. This isn’t AWOL.”

They wove through the hallway in a berth of halting steps and startled looks. Everyone knew she was impounded here. Hell, the damn press had long-range lenses aimed at her balcony. She was a lone black-clothed sheep in a sea of Alliance uniforms.

“Looking for someone?” James trotted to keep up with her.

“Admiring the crowd.”

“Looked like you were looking for someone.”

“It looked wrong then.”

Her eyes moved over the surrounding shapes – forms standing against the windows, coming in and out of conference rooms, stepping sideways to avoid her shoulder. Waist too thick or shoulders too narrow. Not tall enough, hair too short, not an officer. Gait too ambling, posture leaning against the wall too slouched or not slouched enough. No, no, and no. They neared the hallway exit, and Shepard pulled her attention from the crowd. She shouldn’t have expected anything else. Running into him in headquarters’ hallway wouldn’t solve anything anyway. Best case scenario, he turned away. Worst case scenario, he turned away.

“Really seems like you’re looking for someone. You need Anderson, just say. He told me you can call him anytime. Not everybody’s got a direct line to an admiral, you know.”

“Not everyone has an Alliance nanny. Being the only one with something doesn’t always make you special in a good way, James.” 

The doors opened. Moisture blasted them in the face. The cool breeze sent a shiver down Shepard’s back. Shepard didn’t hesitate and splashed down the sidewalk in a run. _ Special _. Ha. A shadow moved in her memory – the SR-1 and the orange light of the systems console. Being “special” was a two-edged sword.

“You seem a little, I dunno. Having a rough day or something?” James lumbered next to her as she hit a stride.

Rain slicked her face, socks drenching with each pounding footfall, and pant legs slapping water against her ankle. She steered them down a sidewalk through the lawn. The HQ lawn was empty. Only a few umbrellas bobbed in the distance. Shepard took another sharp turn.

“We can’t go off campus,” James said.

“Getting winded there already, James? Those muscles take alot to pack around, hmm?”

“I get my cardio in,” James said. “I’m just not into running unless it’s from something.”

“Me neither.”

“What?” James frowned sideways.

“Me neither, I said. Water in your ears?”

“What the hell are we doing out here then? Wait. You’re – You’re not planning nothing, are you? Commander?”

“Not a lot of witnesses out here, Vega. I would have konked you out a long time ago if that was the case.” Shepard veered onto a worn path into the pines and slowed to a jog. “Never ran much. Preferred other PT. Last few months before – well, you know – I got into running. A little. Social activity, I guess. Sometimes when I run, I feel like I’m still on the SR-1 running the cargo bay. Look to the side I should see … It was a long time ago. Not for me, but for … others.” Shepard darted into the lead.

“You really die, Commander?” James ducked a tree branch snapping out behind her. 

She glanced back. “Watch out there, Vega.”

“This trail is a little overgrown, ain't it? We even on HQ land? We getting into a park or something?”

“Don’t know. Never been here.”

Vancouver. She’d imagined it. He only mentioned it once or twice in passing, but she remembered. On the SR-2, alone in her cabin, watching the fish tank bubble and listening to the low hum of the air handler -- remembering was all she had. 

It didn’t matter though. Not anymore. The reapers were what was important. She needed to convince the Alliance to forget this farce of a trial and get moving. Nothing else mattered. It was too late for anything else.

“So, Anderson said I could call him anytime, huh?” Shepard splashed through a puddle, splattering mud up her calf. 

“You’re not going to abuse that, right? Now I told ya.”

“Anyone else allowed to see me?” Shepard slowed to walk abreast with him. She shifted her eyes around the mossy tree trunks, keeping her face neutral, voice modulated.

“No Cerberus folks, if you’re wondering,” James panted.

James obviously spent more time with weights and pushups than cardio. His cardio was probably sparring. She could have guessed by the bulk, it probably wasn’t running. Not that a runner couldn’t have muscles, but there was an agility and leanness to him. Them. Runners. In general. 

“No,” Shepard said. “I was wondering about non-Cerberus. Alliance. Just curious.”

“Uh, oh, yeah, I gotcha ya.” James’s feet squashed in the mud like a trotting ox. “Yeah, no real restriction on them.”

“Anyone tried to see me? Got turned away or maybe – I don’t know – backed out last minute?”

“Uh, yeah, actually. A couple of weeks ago.”

Shepard pulled to a full stop. “Who? When?”

“Couple weeks ago. Just said that.” James stopped with a chuckle. “Never seen you this excited. You lonely or something? I’m sure you can contact people. I mean, no one blacklisted like Cerberus, but family, Alliance. Probably get a civilian friend approved with a background check.”

“Back to two weeks ago.” Shepard waved the offer away. “Who wanted to see me?”

James grinned. “You are getting bushy tailed about this. Didn’t realize you were that bored. You need someone to talk to or something? Feel kinda bad now watching the bioticball finals out in the hall. You like bioticball? Still a few left. You could watch them with me.”

“Don’t make me slam you into a mud puddle. Just answer my question.” Shepard put her hands on her hips. “Now, who tried to see me? Why didn’t he get through?”

“He? How’d you know it was a he?”

Shepard’s stomach dropped. “Oh. Who then?”

“Nah. It was a he. Just joshing you.”

He smiled, and Shepard’s heart picked up pace. 

“It was that pilot,” James said. “Moreau or something. Wanted to talk to you, but Anderson put the kibosh on it. Sorry. He a good friend of yours?”

“Sure.” Shepard dismissed it and took a step toward James. “No one else? These last five months, the whole time, just Anderson and Moreau out of the Alliance?”

James frowned and tapped up his Omni-Tool screen. Shepard waited, hemlock branches dripping on her head from above.

“Let’s see,” James said. “To see you, like a visit? Nada. Sorry there, Commander.”

“What about just a check up? Status request or something? They keep records of those requests, right? Anyone talk to you in the hall?”

“Be easier if you just tell me who you’re asking about.”

“I’m not – I’m just curious.” Shepard snapped around and dashed down the trail. Mud slapped so high it splattered her pumping elbows.

“Wait, wait, wait.” James sprinted up from behind. “Slow down a little.”

“I like a hard run,” Shepard said in broken words, pushing her legs faster.

“Commander, wait. I got a list here.”

“Of what?” Shepard snapped but slowed down.

“Any requests, like you said.” He stopped with heaving breaths. “Been a lot of ‘em. Agencies, subcommittees, Alliance brass. Turned down requests, too, if you’re curious about more than Alliance requests.”

“Fine.” Shepard circled back to him. “Let me see.”

James laughed. “You got cabin fever all right. You’re up and down. Here you go. Have a read.”

Shepard pulled the list up on her Omni-Tool. Her Omni-Tool’s functions were strict and limited, but she could access James’s data once he released it.

James eyed her. “Better delete it off your ‘Tool after you get your peek in. Not sure brass would be happy with me—”

“What’s this?” Shepard stabbed a finger at the list.

“Uh, well. Huh.” James peered at it. “That’s kind of funny. Looks like someone got a hold of your email messages, list of received and transmitted. It’d even say how far – yep, all the way back through your Normandy SR-2 Cerberus time. Messages can’t be read or nothing though. I wouldn’t worry about it. That info request only shows recipients and senders. Need a warrant for the messages.”

“And this section? The request was sent to … Where’s the requester’s name? Someone requested it, right?”

“Well, you’re a biotic, right? You part of the …” James wiped rain off his brow and pinched his eyes closer to the glowing font. “Special Operations Biotics Division.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Huh. Don’t know what to say. Request was sent to them though.”

“To a whole division? My records?”

“To the CO, I’m thinking. Then filters down to who needs it.”

“The CO? Of the Alliance’s Special Operations Biotics Division?” Shepard echoed. The corner of her lip pulled up. “My correspondences don’t seem in the purview of a biotics program. Someone’s nosey.”

“Guess so. Like I said, they’d need a warrant for the actual messages. Maybe just someone being nosey. Possible I guess. Need to have some high-level clearances to get this far.”

“Yes, yes, you would.” Shepard couldn’t stifle the full grin. It wasn’t checking on her per se. Maybe it was only trying to find nails for her coffin even, but it was better than just turning away. She wasn’t forgotten.

“Let’s wrap this up,” Shepard said briskly. “Getting a little chilly. And wet. Like to see the ocean first though. I’ve heard English Bay is worth seeing.”

Waves crashed in the distance beyond the trees. Shepard raced down the trail, shoes squashing in the mud, and a smile on her lips.


	9. Chapter 9

_ “These indoctrinated servants became sleeper agents under Reaper control.  _

_ Taken in as refugees by other Protheans, they betrayed them to the machines” _ ~ Vigil

Gunshots ricocheted off the walls of the compound's loading dock.

“Private, get your head down.” Kaidan barreled toward him.

He shoved the kid over and reeled back from the red beam. Concrete exploded behind them. That could have been the kid’s head.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Kaidan yanked him behind a crate.

“Sir, one more warp, I could have—”

“Don’t stand up and throw hit after hit. See the rafters? That second story window? They have the high ground.”

“If I pop up and throw something, I can’t aim it right. Doesn’t hit. I can’t do my own combos.”

“Sergeant.” Kaidan spun to Wilkes. “Take Fielder to the backline. Long-ranged Throws, Private, and keep your head down. You and I are going to talk later.”

The boy’s eyes rounded, Adam’s apple bobbing, but he nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.”

Kaidan motioned to Wilkes. The two soldiers slunk toward the back gate.

“Uptograph?” Kaidan touched his ear.

Kaidan’s attention snapped away from his comm. Across the warehouse, one of his marines huddled behind a freight box. Dust swirled in the air from sniper fire. She cringed tighter to the floor. Kaidan signaled to two privates on his left and pointed to her. They abandoned attempting to override the side door and raced to the pinned soldier. Kaidan fired a quick round at the sniper’s window. A merc slinked along the rampart from the other direction. Kaidan turned his pistol to him and threw a Warp. His shield broke with the third bullet. Kaidan dragged him off the ledge and Threw him against the wall.

Kaidan’s comm crackled. “Uptograph here, Commander.”

“Red team’s overrun.” Kaidan pressed his ear. “Turrets covering the exits. Drones neutralized. Meet Blue Team at the north gate. I’m sending Lieutenant Spenser—” Kaidan leaped to his feet and flung a grenade. A batarian rounding up behind Private Alonway caught the movement and flattened himself to the floor. The explosion made Alonway jump. His concentration broke forming a Singularity on the three mercs in front of him. The grenade’s shrapnel shredded the batarian’s shields. He rolled to his feet and swung around the corner. Alonway turned. He stared into the shotgun open-mouthed. Kaidan hit the batarian with a Reave strong enough the batarian screamed. The shotgun clattered from his quivering fingers. Kaidan sprinted across the open floor, a faster line to the private. The Reave’s boost in Kaidan's barrier absorbed the worst of the bullets. He tumbled in beside Alonway. Kaidan’s forearm stung, blood oozing from a crack in his armor.

“Watch your back, Private,” Kaidan said. “Don’t choose cover with 180 exposure behind you. I’ll prime the mercs at our three o’clock. Detonate with Throw.”

The combo shook the freight containers. Kaidan motioned Alonway to fall back. 

“Privates, Corporal.” Kaidan drew the team together. The marine pinned down earlier rushed over. The two privates Kaidan had sent to break her free were on her heels.

“Commander Alenko?” Uptograph asked in the comm. It cut in and out.

“Right.” Kaidan remembered. He’d dropped their conversation. That batarian crawling up on Alonway had made everything else fade away. “Uptograph, Lieutenant Spenser will meet you at the north gate and fill you in. We’ll do the zagline like practiced. Secure the main hold.”

“Zagline?" Uptograph sounded less than convinced. "Aye, aye, sir."

Kaidan gathered the front-line team behind a crate in the back of the warehouse. Shots followed their footsteps into cover and rocked the crate like a tin can. It was thick enough metal to hold for a few minutes. A blue form slinked along the back wall, and Kaidan sighed through his teeth. He turned his back to her, but it didn’t stop her from falling into the circle of soldiers. The marines gave the asari a wide space.

“Blue Team and Yellow are zaglining into the hold. We’ve got the back-line covering us with long range when we break into the yard. We’re going to—Are you listening, Private Topkins?”

“Uh, aye, aye, sir. Sorry. Saw a shadow above.”

“Sergeant Wilkies is covering us right now. Now listen up.”

The marines nodded after Kaidan was done. No questions. They fanned out at Kaidan’s direction. Alektra wedged in beside Kaidan, pushing the Corporal to the edge of their cover. Kaidan ignored the asari. He pressed his back against the crate, forearm throbbing from the hit earlier. 

He scanned the marines’ biotic barriers as they fell into position along the back of the loading dock. Topkins needed a refresher later. Her barrier looked weak. It hadn’t even taken a hit yet, and it was flickering. Lawrence’s maneuvering through the crates was dragging and halted. Injured. Left leg. Must have just happened. She was fine a minute ago. She’d be alright for the charge, but it would slow her. 

“Corporal,” Kaidan looked around Alektra at Johnson. “Keep an eye on Lawrence. Medigel’s probably sealed that bullet she took to her leg, but she’s limping.”

“What? She got hit? How do you know she – Oh, yeah, she is limping. Aye, aye. I’m on it.”

This was an applied training exercise. Sure, they didn’t want the cartel’s freight escaping and for any smugglers to get away, but it wasn’t worth anyone’s life. At their worst,  Red Clovers pirated unlicensed commercial frigates. They weren’t attacking colonies or Alliance ships. It wasn’t the worst thing if the Clovers or their drugs got away. It would be disappointing, a lesson on what to do differently, but nothing worth a marine’s life.

“Nice Reave back there,” Alektra said. “Heard you could Reave. Still a part of me that didn’t believe it.”

Kaidan frowned at her then focused back on the team. Why the hell did the Spectre even know about Kaidan’s biotics? Kaidan was exasperated at this point. The Council had an interest in fostering the Alliance’s biotics program. The Alliance wanted asari and turian cabal input. And Spectre Alektra providing input and direction made sense, but she hardly lifted a finger. She may as well have been a wildlife photographer filming lions tearing apart gazelles. ‘Do not interfere’ seemed to be her motto, and she was always on Kaidan’s heels. Damn irritating. He’d even asked her to back up Lieutenant Uptograph and provide some experienced direction on that team. Uptograph was the most senior biotic officer under Kaidan, but he seemed more focused on biotic charges and novas than staying with his team. Alektra could reinforce Kaidan’s directions while Uptograph was off Kaidan’s grid. But Alektra said no. Now here she was velcroed to Kaidan’s heels again, pistol worthless in her hand, jotting things down on her Omni-Tool.

“Your leadership style’s more fluid, individualized, with more approachability than I’m used to seeing in human or turian military.”

“What?” Kaidan glanced back with a sharp frown. He refocused.

“What would you say is your primary objective here? Secure the cartel’s inventory or maximize the learning component of the exercise with your team?”

Kaidan didn’t even answer. He motioned at the two privates stopping short of their position against the wall. No, all the way. Maston needed all the cover she could get. She never watched her sides. She needed one side against the wall.

“If it comes down to it,” Alektra said, “will you sacrifice your men's safety in this scenario to prevent failure in neutralizing the cartel?”

“What?” Kaidan hissed. “Can we do this later?”

“Can’t multitask?” Alektra narrowed her eyes. She pulled up her Omni-Tool screen and jotted something down.

“Uptograph?” Kaidan spoke into his ear piece.

“Both teams in position, Commander.”

Kaidan made quick eye contact with the marines to either side of him. He checked the back line with Wilkes. They were attacking with long-range biotics. The front line was covered. All in position.

“Go. All, go.” Kaidan spun around the crate, throwing Warps and waved his line forward. “Three point drive. Go, go!” 

* * *

Kaidan walked with the stretcher. He tried to ignore Alektra dogging his steps. Outside Huerta Memorial the Citadel skies brightened with simulated dawn.

Uptograph grabbed Kaidan’s wrist. “Sir, you don’t need—ahhh.” He arched his back on the stretcher, lips drawing back from his teeth. The medics hauling the stretcher mumbled something into their radio.

“I’m sorry, Jake. I had no idea about the acid.” Kaidan covered Uptograph’s shaky grip with his other hand. “You protected your team. The brass will know about it.”

“Un-ID’ed freight.” Uptograph’s breath wheezed through his teeth. The skin on his face oozed, blistered and crusted. Blood tinged the white of his eyes. “Novas around un-ID’ed – ahh – you warned me, but—”

“They were opening those canisters for something anyway. Probably meaning to use it on your team even before your Nova. You absorbed the spray. A strong barrier. Spared your men. You showed good instinct reacting that fast.”

Doors opened to the gleaming white floors of Huerta Memorial’s operation wing. Bleach mixed with a sweet sick smell that made Kaidan’s stomach sour. Kaidan stopped at the threshold. Uptograph’s fingers slid out of Kaidan's hand.

A nurse ran up to them. “Surgical suite 19 is open.”

“I’ll check in on you later.” Kaidan nodded at Uptograph. Scrubs enveloped his stretcher like a cloud and the doors slid closed.

“His left side will never be the same.” Alektra stopped beside Kaidan. “Damn stupid move charging those mercs while opening unidentified freight. His nova blew the acid everywhere. He’s lucky those mercs got the brunt of it.”

“His skin was burning away and he still got all his men out,” Kaidan cut back at her. “Maybe if you’d been there to advise him, he wouldn’t have charged unknown containers.”

“You spoke to him at the briefing about his biotic charges. You warned specifically about unidentified freight. He remembered. Just said so. He’s lucky it wasn’t incendiary.”

“I don’t know about lucky.” Kaidan turned away.

“Are you meeting with Councilor Udina? I’ll come.”

“I’m not meeting the Councilor,” Kaidan said. “I’m meeting with Admiral Anderson. He’s the one coordinating with Udina and the Council.”

“I’m sure Udina plans to meet with you soon.”

“Why?” Kaidan stopped at the hospital elevator. He pressed the button. “I don’t understand the Council’s interest in the Alliance's biotic program. Some interest, but this? Seems excessive.”

“The Alliance biotic program is of  _ some  _ interest.” Alektra eyed him with a smirk. “Well, I’ve seen all I need to report back. Good luck, Major.”

“Commander,” Kaidan corrected with a frown.

Alektra stepped into the opening elevator with a curling smile. She punched a button, but Kaidan didn’t follow. He let the doors slide shut. He’d spent enough time with her already. Any more time and his headache may become permanent. He’d catch the next one. He rubbed his temple and lowered his eyes from the fluorescent lights. 

“Commander Alenko, you don’t look well.”

Kaidan froze. The voice was familiar. He snapped around. A familiar face too.

“Dr. Chakwas,” Kaidan stammered.

“Kaidan.” She approached from the hallway. The white lab coat gave her Alliance science uniform an official crispness. Her smile was tight but real. “Been a long time, Commander.”

“You’re Alliance again?”

“Surely, you heard. I returned from leave.”

“I’d heard,” Kaidan said. He considered her a long moment. “You’re not deployed?”

“Afraid not. Seems my affiliation with Cerberus casts a long shadow.”

“Hmm.” Kaidan pressed the elevator button and crossed his arms.

“You seem off, Kaidan. Flushed, perspiring, rigid facial expression. I saw you touch your head. A migraine I’m thinking.”

“I’m fine. Just having trouble shaking it.” He cleared his throat and tried to concentrate on her. He was being rude, but everything felt too slippery. Uptograph, Alektra, the meeting with Anderson in a few hours. The headache. Now this. The elevator doors opened. “I’m sorry, doctor. I think I need to … It was good seeing you.”

He turned, but Dr. Chakwas caught his arm. “My, my, Kaidan, bulked up, have we? Come with me. Let’s get you something to help that migraine. I still have my medical license you know.”

“I have to report …”

“Where?” Dr. Chakswas waited.

“To …” Kaidan sighed and massaged his temple. “Please. I’ll go lie down.”

“My office is just around the corner.” She tugged at his elbow, but Kaidan locked his legs against her tow. She frowned at him. “You won’t come? Migraine putting you out of sorts or just the topic of my serving with Cerberus?”

“Both.” 

“Just come with me. Perhaps I can help with more than just your migraine.”

Kaidan relented and let her drag him to her office.

* * *

“You haven’t taken anything yet?” Dr. Chakwas tapped two red capsules from a bottle into her palm. She set the bottle on her office counter and crossed the room to Kaidan.

“I came through Emergency with one of my marines. Needed to take care of that first. Didn’t want to be foggy.”

“You shouldn’t wait. You know that. Just be chasing it now. This should help though.” She handed him the pills.

“This isn’t my usual stuff.” Kaidan rolled the capsules in his palm.

“Don’t look at me like I’m giving you unwrapped Halloween candy. It’s something stronger. Think I’d give you the wrong thing?”

“No. It’s just – I’m meeting with Anderson at 1600.”

“You can push through the sleepiness. I have faith.” She handed him water from the faucet.

He threw the pills back and drank the entire glass. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Kaidan.” She returned the glass to the sink and leaned back on the counter. “Dr. Yeboah speaks highly of you.”

“Who?” Kaidan frowned.

“Dr. Yeboah. Cardiologist. Works here at Huerta.”

He was still blanking. He massaged his temple.

“She found out I worked with you aboard the Normandy. Said you were friends. Smart girl. Just finished her fellowship last year.”

“Nia?” Kaidan said suddenly. “I forgot her last name. I guess I knew she was in cardiology. Just didn’t click.”

Dr. Chakwas smiled. “Did you want to ask me about Cerberus?”

“I’m not with her you know.”

“Who?”

“Who? You know who. You brought her up. Nia. We saw each other one time. It was months ago.”

“I didn’t ask.” Dr. Chakwas raised her palms.

“You did without voicing it.”

Dr. Chakwas’s lips creeped up at the corners. “You seem adamant I know the answer to a question I didn’t voice.”

Kaidan shrugged. He’d canceled his dinner with Nia the second he walked off the ship from Horizon. On the off chance what he learned on Horizon was true, he didn’t want to hurt Shepard. Two years for him wouldn’t be two years for her, if she truly had just woken up as she said. To her, Ilos would be only weeks ago. They’d never defined what they were to each other, but there had been an understanding. 

He had intentionally left the door open in his email. He told her he couldn't bear losing her again. That when things settled down, maybe then. If she felt differently and wanted to dissolve their previous understanding, she could tell him as much in a reply. She hadn’t. 

As long as it hung unanswered, he’d operate on the safe side. He couldn’t leave the door open in an email to Shepard then see someone else on the side. Damn, he felt guilty just having gone out for drinks with someone, even though she was dead. That was probably a detail he hadn't needed to add in his email, but it had tumbled out of him. For some reason, it felt like she should know. Full disclosure.

“Still investigating Cerberus?” Dr. Chakwas asked. “David told me you spearheaded Alliance efforts. You’ve seen Cerberus’s bad side, I take it.”

“Is there a good side?” Kaidan bit back, then caught himself. He drained the heat from his words. “Sorry. I know you … well, I’m sure you had your reasons.”

Dr. Chakswas gave him a crooked smile and moved away from the counter. “You think we were wrong to join her?”

Kaidan folded his arms and didn’t say anything.

“Have you seen Shepard?” Dr. Chakswas asked.

“I saw her on Horizon.”

“Since then? She’s been in Alliance custody for months.”

“There’s a trial underway. If what she says is true, she is who she says, they’ll sort it out.”

“She’s Shepard, Kaidan.”

He knotted his arms tighter to his chest. He didn’t even try words, letting the silence hang.

“You think I’ve been fooled? Joker, the engineers, Garrus, Tali, Anderson, everyone who knew her then and who know her now. We’ve all had the wool pulled over our eyes?”

“Kind of the point of indoctrination, isn’t it? Wait for the right moment.”

“Right moment?” Dr. Chakwas chuckled. “What right moment? She’s in Alliance custody. Turned herself in and Cerberus’s billion credit ship.”

“Buying trust. Cerberus doesn’t mind a gambit of resources if it reaches the end goal, whatever it is.”

“So,” Dr. Chakwas resituated against the edge of the desk. “She’s fooled everyone who knew her, except you?”

“Indoctrinated people fool the ones close to them. It's their purpose. Why else bring Shepard back? Was she really the only solution to the Collectors that Cerberus could buy with billions of credit, years of work, and impossible science? We know Cerberus studies indoctrination. The only way to suspect indoctrination is when that person acts out of character, questionable and surprising decisions.”

“Like working for Cerberus? She needed to stop the Collectors.”

“She needed to stop the reapers. She bought the Illusive Man time, not us. The Alliance and Council aren’t preparing because she gave up on them. She came back too late. All the focus is on Cerberus and the Bahak system now, not the reapers.” 

“The Illusive Man wanted the Collector’s base. Shepard destroyed it. That has to mean something.”

“Again, it could be a show to gain our trust. Besides, before I dropped my sources, I heard a rumor. The Illusive Man recovered technology from the base anyway. Reaper tech, because he admires them. At the end of the day, it doesn’t make sense. Overcome death itself, invest two years, invest billions for R&D, the ship, the mission. For what? Destroying one Collector base. Stop the kidnapping of human colonies when the Illusive Man himself is using humans and altering them. All that investment just to buy a few months of extra preparation and save a hundred thousand lives? It doesn’t make sense. There has to be something bigger.”

“I’ve checked Shepard medically. No control chip. No reason to believe anything’s off.”

“So, she’s whole? Completely organic, what she was in 2183, nothing else?”

Dr. Chakwas’s lips thinned. “You know cybernetic implants were needed, but she’s healing. They’re starting to disappear as her skin regenerates. One day she may not even need them.”

“I saw her on Horizon.” Kaidan had to control his breath from rising. “Her eyes had metal inside. Implants glowing through her skin. She’s raised from the dead. Is there any precedence for that? You’re a good doctor, but no one can sort out what Cerberus really did. Saren was enhanced, too, implants and mechanical hardware. It made him easier to control. I’ve read autopsies of the Cerberus troopers. The Illusive Man controls his soldiers by merging tech with organic. You can’t tell me he would spend that much time, that many credits for no real end goal and with no insurance on his investment.”

Dr. Chakwas frowned. “Miranda Lawson said the Illusive Man wanted Shepard unchanged from how she was before.”

“You believe a Cerberus operative?”

“Miranda turned from Cerberus. She told us the truth.”

“Saren said there was a balance to indoctrination. No doubt there has to be some independence, even ignorance of being controlled or having a switch. Alliance High Command has some of Operative Lawson’s logs scavenged from the Normandy. She considered a control chip, and I know the Illusive Man is developing mind-control capabilities outside of chips. Shepard could be indoctrinated by something as innocuous as exposure to an object, like Benezia, Saren, and others were. Time and exposure, no physical signs. And Operative Lawson is suspect at best. She may not even know the Illusive Man’s full plans. Cerberus cells are purposefully sequestered from each other’s research. It gives the Illusive Man unchallenged power.”

Dr. Chakwas chewed her lip. “No, I don’t believe it. Shepard was too normal. She remembered, cared, acted herself. She’d deny anything is wrong.”

“So did Saren. Either couldn’t see it in himself or just in denial. Benezia knew Liara and had the same memories as before. Saren fooled the councilors. Fooled Nihlus and put a bullet in his head. Vigil on Ilos said sleeper agents infiltrated the Protheans and then turned against their own people. If Shepard’s a sleeper agent, it’s in the scope of her end goal to socialize, be herself, convince people. She could be a ticking time bomb and not even know it herself. That’s if it’s even really her and not some VI with her memories. Maybe she’s exactly where he wanted her to be all along. Now.”

“Sitting on Earth, in detention, on trial?”

“Anderson trusts her. She’s entrenching herself. I don’t know Cerberus’s end game, maybe Shepard doesn’t either, not consciously, but she’s too dangerous to trust.”

Dr. Chakwas’s brow furrowed. “You don’t believe it's her?”

“I don’t know,” Kaidan’s voice strangled. “I want it to be her. At the same time … I can’t sleep at night thinking what they could have done to her. I’d rather have it not be her than for her to be trapped inside herself like Benezia or switched into a puppet at a crucial moment and betray herself.”

Dr. Chakwas considered him a long moment. “You and Shepard were close.”

He stared at the floor. “Once. Not anymore.”

“If you tried to find out for yourself, Kaidan. If you would—”

“I did,” Kaidan snapped.

Dr. Chakswas’s eyes widened.

“I’m sorry,” Kaidan muttered and massaged his forehead. “I tried after Horizon.”

“So, you have gone to see her?”

“No, not then. I felt …” He took a deep breath. “It weighed on me. I kept thinking, ‘What if it is her?’ I got her email address from Garrus. Messaged her.”

“And?” Dr. Chakwas prompted.

“And nothing. I never heard back.”

Dr. Chakwas frowned and shifted against the desk. “Perhaps she never—”

“She did.” Kaidan studied her for a second. He could trust her. “I requested files from the Normandy—new Normandy. She got the message. She never tried to reply. It wasn’t intercepted or filtered.”

“She didn’t want to tip Cerberus your direction.”

“And the last few months? She’s been on Earth. I’m Alliance. Anderson even told me I can visit her, contact her, if I wanted. She hasn’t written me.”

“Nor have you written her?”

“I did write her,” Kaidan said firmly. “She deleted it and hasn’t reached out to me. I even apologized. Tried to explain in the email. Told her after things settled down … She knows I wanted to sort things out between us. We were good … friends.”

“Friends,” Dr. Chakwas echoed, a slight smile. “You know Shepard. She doesn’t want to derail you. She’s focused on the reapers.”

“Sure.” Kaidan crossed his arms and walked to the window. “If she didn’t want to derail me, she could have told me as much in a reply. Not even a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘leave me alone.’ She doesn’t … I misread her so deeply. Two years thinking one thing. To be so wrong.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Maybe it’s easier to think it’s not her at all. I know you and Garrus and Joker believe, but I can’t wrap my head around it. I want her to be alive. Want it more than anything, but wanting something that badly only makes it easier to be manipulated. You see what you want to see. I know what I’d want to see, so I can’t trust myself.”

Dr. Chakwas strolled to the window. She put a hand on his arm. “Kaidan, you’ve obviously thought a lot about this. Too much maybe. Some things are simple. It’s her. I don’t think she’ll turn or has any ulterior motives in surrendering herself to the Alliance. Talk to her.”

“No.” Kaidan stepped away and let Dr. Chakwas’s hand drop. “The Shepard I knew died. She knows how to reach me. After the trial, maybe then something ... Eventually, I’ll be called to Earth. My testimony is important. After Shepard’s, the most important. The reapers are Shepard’s priority and mine, and I can’t have my motives questioned.”

Dr. Chakwas’s frown deepened. “Until you talk with her, you won’t find any peace.”

“I haven’t found peace in two years anyway.” Kaidan stopped at her office door. “I’m glad you made it back to the Alliance, Doctor.”

“I never left. Not really.”

Kaidan almost said something then closed his mouth. Instead he inclined his head and turned down the hall. His head swam with Dr. Chakwas’s words. What if it was Shepard? His blood rushed. He hoped it was and hoped it wasn’t. Either way, he needed to keep a clear head. Distance was the only way to trust himself. He wouldn’t turn his back to a loaded gun, even if his heart wanted it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed this story originally had 24 chapters. It's all written, but I've decided to divide the story into two parts. This will finish "About Horizon . . ." I'll start posting "About Mars . . ." next week like I would the next chapter.
> 
> There are a few reasons I decided to split up the story. One, of course, being the natural division between games, ME 2 and ME 3. More than that, though, the two halves have different focus and tone. "Horizon" has a narrow focus on Kaidan's POV. It's more somber, narrative-heavy, and focused on external events. "Mars" shares Shepard and Kaidan's POV equally and includes the crew in the background. Compared to "Horizon," "Mars" is fluffier, more dialogue-heavy, and focused on relationships. "Horizon" is about what drives the characters apart. "Mars" is about what brings them back together. For all of those reasons, it felt like they deserved their own stories.

* * *

“Admiral.” Kaidan saluted him.

Anderson’s hologram returned the salute with a broad smile. “Sorry to not be there in person, Commander. Actually, what am I saying? No, I’m not. That desk was getting too heavy to haul around.”

Citadel towers shimmered through the cubby-hole-sized window behind the hologram. The Alliance conference room had a sterile, white-walled feel. Impersonal. Nondescript. Even with ten holograms it would feel lonely. Today there was only one. Anderson’s.

“Heard the operation got a little dicey at the end,” Anderson said.

“The cartel had canisters of taurturic acid. Lieutenant Uptograph caught it full on. We rushed him to the citadel. Can’t say the consequences won’t be severe, but he’ll recover. The rest of the team suffered minor burns. Uptograph evacuated his team cleanly, even shielded them with a barrier from the worst of the spill. Increased his own exposure. The cartel’s mercs are eliminated or in custody. Base secure and being inventoried. The Amethyst is finishing the processing, since we evacuated for medical. All in my report, sir.”

“Good, good.” Anderson straightened his uniform and sat down. He waved a hand out in invitation. Kaidan sat. “The Biotics Division is turning out to be more of a fit than you initially thought?’

“Teaching is what you make it. I like it to be more hands-on. Seems to be working. I’ll adjust if there are issues.”

“Hmm. I was concerned when you threw the brakes on your Cerberus interests. I can’t say the Alliance and Council have been as successful without you.”

“I …” Kaidan studied the table and cleared his throat. “I just needed another direction.”

When promoting Shepard’s cause became working against it, he’d felt rudderless.

“I’m glad I convinced you. Finally. Your teams have been successful. The Alliance wants to expand it, reach outside internal recruitment. Recruit from all over, the best human biotics. It’ll be a lot of green to rough away, but I have a feeling you’re up for it.”

Kaidan rubbed the back of his neck, mind running the numbers. “How many are we talking, sir? I have three squads already.”

“Yes, you do.” Anderson folded his hands on the table and grinned. “The Alliance Parliament wants a total of eight. Two commanders over four squads each. You have any leadership suggestions? We’d prefer to elevate from within the current squads.”

“Well …” Kaidan’s brow pinched. He licked his lips. “Lieutenant Uptograph is a little hot headed at times, likes to lead too far ahead, but after this … I think he will be more cautious. Maybe play student a little more than just teacher’s aid. It’s a high cost to pay, but he may come out a better leader for his mistake. He did put his team first. I think he’s a good choice.”

“And the second commander?”

Kaidan shifted in his seat. “Am I being reassigned?”

“Not so much reassigned as a new perspective.” Anderson leaned forward. “How does Major Alenko sound? I think it has a nice ring.”

Kaidan’s heart hammered. “What?”

“I know. Staff Commander only eleven months ago, but Alenko, you’ve earned it. You’re the Alliances most advanced biotic. The brass are pleased with the progress you’ve made over only four months. Training programs, especially new ones, don’t avert terrorist strikes on Alliance outposts or smother the pirate cartels in a whole region of the Transverse. No fatalities, even in the rookies you’re pulling along.”

“Uptograph …”

“One man, and not KIA. As you said, he may learn from it. Maybe that mistake will save his life one day from a bigger mistake. Caution. You’re cautious, Major, but you know when to strike too. You’re a good educator and a team player. The Council has noticed too.”

His headache pulsed in a slow wax and wane. It must be confusing him from grasping the obvious.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what is the Council’s interest in the Alliance’s Biotic Division?”

“We’ve gotten some recommendations and tips from their experts. You’ve seen the reports.”

“Yes, but Spectre Alektra. She’s been with us a month. I think she’s finally pulling up stakes by how she talked, but I’m a little lost on her purpose. As far as I know, she hasn’t submitted any improvement suggestions.” Kaidan's spine went rigid, mind spinning. She’d called him major. She knew about his promotion before he had.

“A little mysterious perhaps,” Anderson allowed. “There are reasons.”

“Understood, Admiral.” Kaidan recognized a ‘you don’t need to know’ answer when he heard one. He could fall into line.

“So, Alenko, another thing. More curiosity.” Anderson slouched back in his seat and eyed Kaidan with a smirk. “Councilor Udina. Heard he’s been sending you on some errands in your free time.”

Kaidan grimaced. It was true. They weren’t exactly coffee orders, but they weren’t Alliance-related tasks either. Without scraping through Cerberus intel and meeting up with sources, Kaidan did have some spare time. Too much actually. Anything was better than hours with nothing but thoughts, wondering if he’d gone too far or not far enough. If Udina wanted Kaidan escorting some dignitaries across the station or overseeing a weapon shipment to the Citadel, then well, Kaidan hopped to it. He wasn’t being paid. There was nothing shady about it. He hoped.

Kaidan gave a weak smile. “Uh, yeah, I’ve been—Did Udina tell you that, sir? I’m not, uh … No ulterior motives or conflicting interest. Just … bored.”

“Bored?” Anderson raised an eyebrow. “Bored, you take shore leave and kick around your hometown. Go drinking with friends. See a show. Take up sports.”

“I go to the gym.”

Anderson rolled his eyes. “I know. Two places I can find you, work or the gym.”

Kaidan folded his arms. This felt a little personal. “Have we gone off record?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not some vain workaholic, you know.”

“Kaidan, you’re a workaholic. Not vain maybe, though a little more coiffed than the average marine.”

“Have you seen other L2s?” Kaidan leaned forward on the table. “You think a wrinkled uniform and uncombed hair is going to do me any favors? Besides, it’s static, not … coiffing.” Kaidan spat the word out and thumped back in his chair. “I workout, because it feels good. Running the track is the only time I start thinking everything may turn out okay.”

“Little cloudy of an outlook, isn’t it?”

“The reapers are coming. We’re twiddling our thumbs.”

“And running helps?”

Kaidan waved a hand out. “Yes.”

“And weights too?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe do some of this stuff with someone. Not alone. Take it from an old soldier who made the same mistakes, Kaidan. And what’s with this Udina thing?”

“Hell, if I know.” Kaidan sat forward again. The reality of Anderson staring back jolted him. “Sir. Sorry, I—”

“This is off the record,” Anderson clarified. “You and me. What’s going on?”

“He called me up one day. I couldn’t say no, could I? He asked me about Cerberus. I think he was playing catch up. You didn’t leave him many records, did you?”

Anderson smiled. “Afraid they got lost in the shuffle. Udina’s not the one I wanted taking up the mantle.”

“Me neither.”

“He thinks you love him.” Anderson rocked back in his chair. “Had a conference call yesterday. Wouldn’t be surprised he wrote you into his will. Alenko this and that. Though, huh, well …” Anderson paused with a sudden frown.

“What?” Kaidan said slowly.

“Something just occurred—never mind. Be careful with him.”

Kaidan narrowed his eyes. “I’m not that kind of friend to Udina.”

“What?”

“I know that’s what you were thinking. How could you even—The thought alone makes me want to run and find a trash can.”

“Well, alert the janitor. Don’t leave it for the night crew.”

Kaidan gave a flat look. “Coiffed, workaholic, and now Udina?”

“Ha. I suppose I’m breaking down the admiral-subordinate role too much. Too long playing councilor on the sidelines. You know, Shepard is like family to me. Losing her was hell. You, though, Kaidan. I have a vested interest in you too. I want to see you succeed in more ways than just medals and stripes. Tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it. Can’t let them think what you have isn’t earned from me or Udina or … Shepard.”

Kaidan’s skin prickled. He’d never admitted it to Anderson. Perhaps Anderson saw the deleted email he’d sent to Shepard’s Cerberus account. Or he could just be guessing. Either way, Kaidan said nothing but held his gaze.

Finally, Kaidan licked his lips. “Anyway, Udina’s given me a few chores. I don’t think it occurred to him I could say no. I don’t like Udina. The man’s a –anyway, I don’t respect him, but I’ll be respectful. I think my efforts to be polite and my willingness to help – on official, business-related errands,” Kaidan emphasized, “I think he took it as me holding him in positive regard. I don’t. I just needed something to do.”

“If that’s all there is to it – no pressure from the Council, monetary or promotional incentives – then there’s no issue. Udina’s a snake though. You may have helped me as Councilor, but Udina’s not someone you trust. Don’t let him fool you.” Anderson rubbed his chin, eyes on his desk, and let the silence stretch. He looked up. “You want to know why Spectre Alektra followed you around? Why Udina called you up and just expects you to do his chores? Look at everything leading up to it. Then think about the next step.”

Kaidan’s heart slowed. “I’m not Shepard.”

“No, you’re not.” Anderson caught his eye. “You’re Kaidan Alenko. Now, Major Kaidan Alenko. You and Shepard both have initiative, drive, tenacity, intelligence, but you’re different too. I’m proud of you in different ways. Ha. Makes me feel like someone’s dad saying that, but I know your real father is proud too. You already make the Alliance proud. Maybe you can make the galaxy proud too.”

Kaidan sat back thunderstruck reeling with the implications. “I haven’t heard anything.”

“No, and I haven’t told you anything. Now.” Anderson rested his palms on the table. “Major Alenko, send me your recommendations on team leaders. You’ll start external recruitment. Goal: eight squads. You’ll need a curriculum, more structure, a spectrum of learning stages and leveled experience.”

“I think biotics could specialize, sir,” Kaidan said. “More than vanguard, sentinel, adept. Some are suited, naturally gifted different directions. I was thinking of making tracts.”

“Good.” Anderson grinned. He stood. “You’ll be getting a summons soon from Alliance Command. There’s been some unrest in the outer systems.”

“What do you mean?” Kaidan said sharply.

“They’ll want you to testify on the reapers soon. I think I’ll see you in Vancouver sooner than you think.”

Kaidan’s pulse speed up. Unrest. What sort of unrest would finally be enough to pressure the trial committee?

“I’ll be watching for my summons, sir.”

“Good. And, Major?”

Kaidan stood. “Yes, sir?”

“You’ve come too far for a wrinkled uniform to cast doubt about what you bring.”

Kaidan's face heated. “Thanks, sir.”

“And, Major, another thing. Udina gives you actual laundry to do, make sure you draw your line.”

“I know where my line is, sir.” Kaidan saluted.

Anderson’s smile widened. He returned the salute.

“Anderson out.” He pressed a button and faded away.

Kaidan leaned forward on the table, shaken. Nothing had happened yet. Best to operate as usual until he heard something for certain. He wasn’t Shepard though. The thought of being put on her level twisted his gut. Anderson’s confidence was reassuring. Kaidan knew he had something to offer. It was the inevitable comparison that stung. He wasn’t Shepard. 

He pushed away from the table and turned to the door. That was a concern for another day. A day that might not even come.

* * *

Stars glittered overhead, the constellations of his childhood. Grass chilled his toes, moist and cool from the night air off the Pacific. A rare night without cloud cover.

Kaidan had rented a skycar out of Vancouver and come up the coast until the city lights faded away. The skycar sat in the sandy grass behind him under a canopy of hemlock. Kaidan ground an empty beer bottle into the loamy soil and watched the waves hit the cliff below. Gusts of sea spray speckled his face with each crash. His Omni-Tool was still blinking, and he finally checked it.

_ Dad: Still heading to the orchard tomorrow. Hire a shuttle. Even if it’s late, come out. _

Kaidan sighed and type an abridged version of the response he’d already given that morning.

_ Kaidan: I’m not on leave, Dad. _

It was at the discretion of the trial committee when he’d be released from questioning. Even when he was dismissed, he would be waiting for orders, not on vacation. This was hopefully just a quick stop over. 

Kaidan slung his empty beer bottle across the grass. It rolled to a stop tapping up against the skycar. He only brought one. Now he wished he’d brought more, which is exactly why he’d brought one.

_ Dad: Come over tonight then. Your mom’s still up. Watching that damn miniseries again. Country balls and simpering. Mr. Darcy won’t dance with you. It’s the end of the world. _

Kaidan rather liked that one, but he wasn’t about to tell his dad that. Kaidan smiled wanly and typed in his response.

_ Kaidan: A dance card with empty space? Oh, the heartbreak. _

_ Dad: So I hear through the wall. Will you come? _

Kaidan stared out at the black ocean, hair ruffling in the breeze. He could have gone to his parents’ apartment in town rather than come out here. If he got back in the skycar now, he could be back in Vancouver with in an hour. He threads his fingers through his hair, elbows on his knees, and stared down at the sandy grass. After a moment, he punched in his response.

_ Kaidan: Another night. I get a better idea how long they need me, maybe then. _

_ Dad: The orchard? _

_ Kaidan: I’ll try. _

_ Dad: Try hard. Your mother misses you. _

Kaidan waited a beat then it came.

_ Dad: And I miss you too. _

Kaidan grinned and typed on the holoscreen. Another message came in first.

_ Dad: You finished off my whiskey last time you were here. You owe me. _

Kaidan grinned deeper and sent his response.

_ Kaidan: Well, I do miss Mom. _

Then after an equal pause sent the next line.

_ Kaidan: And I miss you too. _

_ Dad: Good. Then get out here. Splurge on the whiskey. You’re a major now. _

_ Kaidan: I’ll see what I can find. _

Kaidan turned off his Omni-Tool. His eyes adjusted back to the dark. He’d seen his parents all of fifteen minutes when he first arrived. Kaidan had hoped to get a firmer answer on how long they needed his testimony. But maybe with the ‘unrest,’ they didn’t even know. The small bit of question and answer he’d had that afternoon had been more about the reapers than Shepard. At first he’d felt relief, but now, staring over the dark water and black skies, he wasn’t so sure. He lifted his face to the stars. A chill went down his back. He pushed out of the grass, slid on his sandals, and brushed bits of sand and moss off his civvies. 

He flicked his Omni-Tool back on and brought up his contacts. Shepard’s name stared back at him. It was the comm line the Alliance had allowed her. Monitored, but he was cleared to connect directly. His hand dropped from the screen. 

Now was the worst time to muddy things. He was here to testify. Based on the activity and tension in the hallways around HQ, Shepard’s trial might finally be wrapping up. Then they could talk. If she wanted to talk. If there was anything to talk about. He snapped the contact list down with a long exhale.

He missed her. He folded his arms and leaned back against the skycar. The empty bottle rolled against his foot. He picked it up and tucked it under his arm. The moon was starting to rise, a waxing crescent the width of a thread. He wished she was here with him now. She was probably locked up in some stale Alliance office space that had been repurposed and had a guard stationed outside. She probably had a window, but it would still be a cage.

He sighed and scuffed at a clump of grass. It was probably for the best. When he reined himself in from the day dreams, he came back to the same reality. Shepard was a risk, and she wasn’t the person he knew in 2183, no matter how much he wanted her to be. The Alliance was right being cautious. If only they were as cautious with all the warnings.

Kaidan tossed his bottle through the open window and climbed inside the skycar. Tomorrow was his first real day of testimony. He might see Shepard there. His mouth went dry, heart picking up pace. He wasn’t sure what he could even say. The idea was both terrifying and electrifying. But then reality leached into his veins like a chill and slowed his heart. 

In one form or another, the woman he loved was gone, either never existed or changed into someone he’d never met. Whoever he saw in the chamber would have her face, her voice, her memories, and her mannerisms even. But he hadn’t loved her for those things. 

He drew in a long breath and turned on the skycar. One day at a time. Who knew what tomorrow would bring.


End file.
